


Call it what you like

by Niler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is fearless or is that reckless, maybe even...brainless?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zapziamlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zapziamlove/gifts).



  


  


Call it what you like

 

 

 

 

He no longer makes assumptions.

There’d definitely been a time when he’d assume that when someone said they were straight it meant they weren’t into guys - no judgement, just didn’t roll that way.

 Now, he knows it doesn’t always mean that at all.

 He’s always been baffled by the fuss people make over sexual preferences. Love is love, doesn’t _have_ a preference; that arsehole who is nothing but toxic will have you crazy for him; the angel who is everything you’ve ever wanted will likewise have you crazy for him. Love simply does its thing without fear or favour – leaving _you_ to try to put limits on it, you to try to define it, exclude it, make it fit _your_ rules, _your_ prejudices.

 And this is something he’s learned the hard way, though he often feels a measure of discomfort using that word to describe _anything_ in his life.

 He is blessed - can’t deny that.

 Though this isn’t the life he would have _chosen_ , would, like anyone else, prefer to have all the perks and none of the pitfalls, he’s made peace with it, accepted that one simply cannot have _everything_ , does his best to be grateful even when the shitty things are right in view, inviting him to react, lose his cool.

 He recalls the way it used to get to him, the way he’d spend all day putting on a brave face and all night crying and angsting about it.

Well, since there’s only so much of that you can do before coming to the conclusion that crying solves absolutely nothing, save perhaps to make you feel better (for a while) he no longer cries, simply moves on.

Perspective is _everything_ and is something they’ve all, in their different ways _,_ had to learn.

It’s just that it _is_ different for each of them.

Liam and Zayn have each other to consider, and Harry’s well aware just how tough that is. When it’s not just you it gets 1000 times harder to stay on track, hold on to that perspective, but he knows they try, and though he isn’t as close to either of them as he used to be he can tell just how much growing up they’ve done – had to do – over the past 18 months.

Louis, well Louis’ still a tricky subject for him.

There are times he feels guilty for the way they fell apart. Well, no, it wouldn’t really be accurate to say they fell apart. They didn’t fall apart.   Things would have been a lot harder had that been the case. The truth is they simply never managed to get on the same page, and in the end he got tired of hoping that some day they might. When he reached the point where he could look at it without flinching he was able to admit that they had never wanted the same thing, at the same time, and that when Louis finally decided that he did want what Harry wanted,he’d already moved on.

He has a tendency to regret things. His mum calls it his saviour complex; always wanting to fix things, fix people, and he certainly regrets that they couldn’t make it work; regrets hurting him by not being able to remain weak for his sake, but doesn’t really regret growing into the man he’s become.

If it’s true that you grow through adversity, well, best call him _grown_ then.

He has no real regrets about Louis anymore, but it is still painful to be around him at times, knowing that he’s still hurting. They both know that Harry wasn’t responsible for the way it turned out, that Louis’ _own_ weakness proved an insurmountable obstacle, but none of that makes it any less painful.

He knows him so well, knows all his little insecurities, the little tricks he employs to hide them and watching him put on the show designed to hide these things is a somewhat surreal experience.

If he’s honest, being around the guys in public is pretty hard now. They are _lying_ pretty much all the time, and _he_ just can’t do that anymore.

Liam and Zayn are so tense whenever there’s a camera pointed in their direction, yet they’re always, always _pretending_ (Liam in particular), acting their bloody socks off, and he simply cannot stand it.

But that’s what this perspective thing is all about. He has a new perspective on everything, and while he wishes he could get the others to share it, knows it won’t – can’t – happen. They can only act from where they are, and right now they are not on the same page as him at all.

Niall’s different, has always been different.

Harry doesn’t really get it, the way Niall can absolutely fool every single person into thinking he’s shallow, an Irish charmer who loves life and is always up for a laugh.

It truly fascinates him that there are no discernible cracks in the edifice that constitutes Niall Horan, Ireland’s beloved son, almost as if a spell’s been cast over the entire world, preventing anyone from looking deeper.

Niall is the one he loves best; is and has always been his best friend – the one person who has always remained steady and steadfast, so non-judgmental it confounds him at times. Liam’s judgmental, though kind, Zayn often doesn’t say what he really thinks, and Louis, though also kind and sensible, tends not to be as impartial as Harry would prefer. Niall always has his back, loves him in what he feels is as close to unconditionally as he’ll ever get from a friend.

He’s often wondered if that would change were they to ever do anything concrete with the sexual tension between them, and concludes that it probably would, which is why he’s always been careful to remain a safe distance from the cliff edge.

But he can’t deny that lately he’s been getting signals, signs telling him that maybe he should refrain from making certain assumptions.

 

**

He knows who Niall’s slept with. Well, the girls, at least . Niall’s always been very secretive about the other part of it – the guy part of it - because for all he’s open about things, he’s savvy enough to understand that he can’t be queer. As things stand, very few see him as anything but a red-blooded heterosexual, mad about girls, able to date any girl he tries hard enough to get.

And that, of course, is only partially true.

Niall is into guys – very much into guys – he’s just really selective about the ones he actually pursues. Most of his crushes are unattainable straight guys, and Harry has begun to suspect he prefers it that way.

He seems happy enough to be passionately in love with guys he can never have whilst sleeping with the girls he _can_. And this is, of course, a large part of the complexity no-one ever recognises in Niall.

Harry can’t really say how queer Niall is. He seems to be the type of guy who falls in love with other men but never takes the step to get romantically _involved_ with them.

Took him a while to understand that this was a thing, a thing that most people didn’t even _understand_ was a thing.

But he knows now that straight doesn’t always mean straight.

Niall would sleep with him if he made it plain that’s what he wanted (of that Harry has no doubt ) he just isn’t sure it wouldn’t mean _way_ too much. And of course the last thing he needs right now is to add yet another complication to his already dangerously unwieldy love life.

But he’s tempted, as tempted as he’s ever been.

Maybe he’ll wait until the signal is more obvious before deciding...

 

**

He’ll probably never get used to seeing Zayn and Liam together. They’ll kiss and give each other little hugs, friendly pats on the backside, probably imagining that no-one can read the want in every touch, every intense stare they share. The fact that they go into their own private, exclusively shared space at times, leave everyone else behind, seems to be something of which they have no awareness.

They amuse him at times, but frustrate and aggravate more often than not, the sort of couple who have no real understanding of how it feels to be the onlooker, the one excluded from the inner circle, who doesn’t necessarily _want_ to be invited in, but who would certainly prefer not to have to _witness_ it.

He has a sort of reluctant admiration for them, for Liam especially who cannot keep his hands off Zayn in private, but somehow manages to pretend that Zayn’s just another mate when he has to.

This isn’t something he can do, though he is learning to keep what’s his away from prying eyes, belatedly understanding that their fans, the public in general don’t have the right to what’s yours; that it’s not about lying or being deceitful, simply about keeping something for yourself, to yourself. That’s what Liam and Zayn are doing and though it’s hard to watch, he is certainly a little more appreciative of Liam’s perspective these days.

“I don’t want them in my private business, Harry. My music, my soul when I perform on stage they can have, but not my relationship with Zayn. It’s the one thing that’s mine, that I’ve been able to keep private, and you already know how much it means to me. I don’t want anyone knowing, and I don’t want anyone sticking their nose in it. I know it’s different for you-“

“No, it’s not. Oh, you mean with me and Louis?”

“Sorry, mate. I don’t mean to be harsh or anything and I know it wasn’t-“

“No, it’s okay. Yeah, you’re right. Back then I did want people to know. I was just so naive, thought people would actually be okay about it, honestly thought Louis was wrong to think what he did.” He shrugs, having forgiven the 17 year old Harry a long time ago. “But though I won’t hide who I am, I don’t think the same way anymore. I know why you’re doing what you’re doing and it’s not my place to tell you you’re wrong.”

“I can’t put him in that position. If we were outed and he got flak for it it would kill me, Harry. You know that.”

Reaching across, Harry rests a steadying hand on his knee. Liam has moments where he panics – hard – and needs to be talked down. Since Zayn isn’t here he has to do it. “I know, I know, Liam. I understand.” He has never felt this, felt such vulnerability at the prospect of being outed. Even when he knew full well Louis wasn’t ready to come out he never felt this level of trepidation, of fear at the thought of what might happen should it ever come to that. And the thing is he knows Liam can take being outed – for himself – just can’t take it because of what he fears it will do to Zayn.

And that’s what he’s learned lately; that when you really are a committed couple what affects one affects both. He’d always assumed he understood, but the fact that he’d never felt this way about Louis’ being outed told him otherwise.

He’d always secretly believed being outed was a _good_ thing, but could see now that that had been his way of forcing things, forcing the relationship – Louis – to a place it wasn’t ready to go.

He wanted to tell Liam that he needed to stop being so fearful, had to find a way to accept it might happen, otherwise it was probably going to cause problems. But who was he to say? He respected Zayn’s religious beliefs but could never accept that anyone would allow a book to tell them who they could or couldn’t love, so what possible right did _he_ have to speak on this at all?

Clearly he didn’t, couldn’t understand where Zayn was coming from. Liam, yes, since he understood how it felt to love someone that much, but he still felt they were fundamentally wrong to try so hard to stay in the closet.

 “He worries about it all the time.” Liam sighs, leans his head back and looks up at the ceiling as he speaks. “I know it probably doesn’t make any sense since we’re married and everything, but it’s not the same – that’s private, Harry, something only meant for us and our family and friends. We’re not going to compromise in _private_. Get me? It’s about it being all over the News of the World, all over Twitter and Facebook, all over the 9 0 clock news. It’s like losing control of it and that’s what it is – losing control to the media who can say any fucking thing they like about us, make all that shit up and there’s nothing we can do.   It’s bullshit to say none of that would have an effect. It bloody well would, and we all know it.”

“So, isn’t it better if you do it on your terms then, Liam? No, hear me out. I agree with you that the press would be all over it if you got outed, but we all know that it’s about sensationalism – that’s what they’re looking for, that’s what sells newspapers. But if you and Zayn just quietly came out it wouldn’t be as big a deal.”

Liam’s shaking his head, but he isn’t actually saying anything and Harry knows this isn’t the first time he’s thought about it. Perhaps he put it to Zayn and got shot down in flames, but has still not completely abandoned the idea.

Perhaps hearing it from someone else is a good thing, might make him try again.

Obviously they’re not going to come out while they’re under contract, but he knows from experience that there’s a big difference between being closeted and simply not making an _official_ announcement. It’s all about sailing as close to the wind as possible without ever actually breaching any of the agreements. In many ways they do it now, since they literally cannot keep their hands off each other when the cameras aren’t around, and try though they undoubtedly do, aren’t quite able to pull it off completely when they _are_.

He just honestly believes that the more determined they are to remain closeted the harder their lives will turn out to be.

And he no longer even believes that there’s any real way for them to out themselves, even if they continue to give the audience a diluted version of the Liam and Zayn Roadshow they all know and love so very much.

He’s come to the conclusion that most people turn a blind eye to whatever it is they neither wish to see nor accept, so, in his opinion, Liam and Zayn ought to stop worrying so much about being outed, just enjoy what they have.

He misses that, misses that almost claustrophobic feeling of being sexually involved with someone you work with on a professional basis. It’s unlike anything else he’s ever experienced, and he honest to god misses it.

He has most of what he needs with Niall, but it’s the other 25% that he’s missing _most_ right now.

Far as he’s concerned he’s received enough of a signal to be confident in making a move, and in any case knows that Niall is so forgiving that even he fucks it up they’ll still remain friends.

That’s what he wants more than anything; for the sex – or attempted seduction – to have no detrimental effect on their friendship.

Has to take the risk though; you can’t win, after all, if you never even throw your hat into the ring.

  


**

He’s not very good at being subtle. For him desire is like being happy – something you’re not meant to be ashamed of or reluctant to show.

He’s been told he can be quite intense - too intense - and he assumes it must be true. However, that’s not how _he_ sees it. Focus, intense focus on the object of your desire is only _natural_.

He _wants_ him to know he’s desired, to have no doubt on that score, so why would he try to _dilute_ it?

He doesn’t think Niall’s intense when it comes to sex. From the little he’s seen he takes it pretty much in his stride – neither particularly adventurous nor highly-sexed.

He represents a challenge - Harry isn’t going to shy away from that - but the challenge lies in more than getting him off, giving him a taste of what’s on offer, the real challenge lies in having sex with someone he loves without falling into him, without minding if Niall doesn’t want to be with him when they’re done.

The even greater challenge is to get him to do it, convince him Harry won’t get weird about it afterwards.

He thinks he can do that – not get weird – but it seems to him that Niall has far more to lose, here, and since he’s canny enough to see so much further than he’s given credit for will have no difficulty working that one out for himself.

Harry knows full well that getting Niall to do this without careful consideration of the consequences is unlikely.

Something also tells him that the longer he’s given to think things through the less likely he is to allow himself to be persuaded.

 

**

“No.”

“Hold on, you don’t even know-“

“I do know and the answer is no.”

Harry stares at him. Niall isn’t even looking his way, too busy scribbling in his little notebook, legs crossed, earphones in, jamming to the music.

Harry’s offended: he hasn’t even got to the first part of his plan. Since when has Niall refused a game of golf on the Xbox? Neither of them are doing anything. Why would he refuse? What else has he got on?

 “I’m bored, Niall.”

 “I’ll play later. I’m doing this now.” He does seem to be into it, but Harry doesn’t like that Niall seems to be pre-empting him, seeming to be saying no to more than the game, saying no to what might be coming next – which Harry hasn’t even _hinted_ at.

He _hadn’t_ hinted at it, had he? All he’d said was would he like to come and have a go on the Xbox in Harry’s room. How could _that_ be misinterpreted?

“You sure?”

“Sure.”

“Cos I’m gonna hold you to that, Niall.”

“I know. I’ll be there when I finish this.”

He wants to ask him how long that's likely to take, whether he’d be finished this side of midnight, but knows from experience that when Niall's in this type of mood there'ss no way to budge or bully him.

Niall's generally very accommodating, but he, like everyone else, has his moments.

So, question is, does he relish this challenge or does he relish this challenge?

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“So, what is it?”

 Niall’s wearing the jeans he likes and he hasn’t bothered combing his hair.  Harry really likes this look on him, but he’s pissed off because he’s been waiting 2 hours and now he really isn’t in the mood – for playing golf or anything else.

“Thought you weren’t coming.”

“Said I would.”  Closing the door behind him he heads toward the sofa.  “You put it away?”

“I’m in bed, Niall, case you hadn’t noticed.”

Niall turns, looks at him as if he _hadn’t_ noticed and Harry feels seriously, seriously offended.  “Thought you wanted a game.”  
“Two hours ago, Niall, when I was still fucking awake.”  His voice is low since he’s really trying not to give in to the anger, but he can feel the shout tapping him impatiently on the shoulder, just refuses to give in to it – yet.

Niall’s examining him, wondering, no doubt, if he’s actually naked under the sheets.

Of course he’s bloody naked! Everyone knows he doesn’t wear anything in bed.  Not that it matters, because _he’s_ certainly not going to get an eyeful tonight.

“You _never_ sleep.  What you doing in bed?”

“I was tired, Niall.”

“So why did you invite me to play on the Xbox then?”

Harry considers not even bothering to answer, the question is that stupid.  Had Niall even been _listening_ to him before?  Did he have _any_ awareness of the time?  “You do know it’s quarter past 2, don’t you?”

“Yeah? Thought it was later.”  He’s looking around and Harry assumes it’s the Xbox he’s after.  God, he still thinks they’re going to play games?

“Well, _I’m_ tired even if you’re not.  Let’s leave it for tonight, Niall.”

Niall looks at him, shrugs.  “You sure you’re okay, Harry? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine.  Tired, like I said.  Nother time, Niall, okay?”  He’s pissed off, and wants him to leave before he gives in to the temptation to let loose the rein on his anger.  With the way Niall’s being an obtuse piece of shit he’ll probably deliberately ignore his massive hints , find the Xbox, play until 5 o clock...

But Niall merely shrugs, looking as bored as Harry’s ever seen and, hands in pockets, heads for the door.  “You coming to that thing later?”

Yeah, he’d planned to, but... “Doubt it.”

“Okay, just me Zayno and Payno then.”

“Louis not going?”

“Him and Olly are going to that thing with Marky.”  He says this with studied neutrality, but Harry knows what he’s thinking.  Yes, there had been a time when he’d have known that, but maybe even Niall isn’t aware just how little interest he takes in Louis’ affairs.  They’d never had that much in common and now the things in which Louis takes interest honestly bore him stupid.

“Right.”  He meets his eye, silently asking him why he’s being such a little shit, but isn’t at all surprised that Niall ignores that, opens the door.

“Later, man.”

“Sleep tight.”

“Always.  Night.”

As the door closes behind him Harry imagines Niall’s  either breathing a sigh of relief or smirking smugly to himself.

Little prick!

He should have locked that fucking door an hour ago.

Getting up, he strides to the door, throwing the lock with a violence that does make him feel a little better.  Still, he made an error not locking it before.  Would have looked so much better if he’d come here, expecting the door to be left open for him only to find it shut tight, Harry having gone to bed ages before, since it didn’t even matter if he was there or not, made absolutely no difference to him whatsoever.

He lies for ages in bed stewing, wondering _why_ Niall had decided to become a prick right now, right when he definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with dickish behaviour.

But if Niall thought he would dangle on his line, well he clearly had no comprehension just how determined he was to never, ever even pretend to be up for that shit anymore.

Niall wanted to be a dick? Well he could do that all by himself.

_He_ wasn’t playing those games anymore.

 

 

**

 

Ben’s one of the guys who’s taught him that straight really doesn’t necessarily _mean_ straight.  He’s happily married, sure, but he is most definitely not straight.  Harry can get right into his personal space and Ben won’t even flinch, not even a little bit.  Even let him attempt a kiss.  Didn’t happen, but that’s because they're too close.  He knows damn well who he _has_ kissed, though, definitely knows who he’d like to fuck.  Harry’s sort of flattered Ben confides in him that way, while at the same time definitely feeling a measure of discomfort with the secret he’s been given for safe-keeping.  Several reasons for that, not the least of which is that one of the guys is a good friend and if the guy he’s with were to ever to become aware of Ben’s interest there’d be _so_ much awkwardness they would no longer be able to work together.  Ben would probably have to go.

There are times, really, when the combination of sexual attraction and a close working relationship is simply not productive.

He himself used to be hamstrung by jealousy and cannot adequately express his relief that this no longer happens.  Looking back he cannot believe how immature, how naive he once was. 

He’s had to ask himself if he, in fact, contributed far more than he’s been willing to admit to the way Louis behaved during their time together.  Louis went out of his way to inspire jealousy in him, and though _he_ didn’t do the same thing, not as far as he’s concerned at least, there was undeniably a rather unhealthy maelstrom of distorted feelings around being with other people and inviting the other to mind.  Stupid games played by immature idiots, and he is so relieved he no longer sees love and relationships that way.

Niall was there for all of it and there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that he’s a little gun shy because of it.  There’s a sense that he perceives relationships between guys as absurdly intense - filled with possessiveness.  And who could blame him – he and Louis played that possessiveness fame go the hilt and Zayn and Liam have moments where the rest of them are tempted to go and hide all the knives, all the abrasive cleaning products that might slyly be added to tea. 

Liam has looked at him with murder in his eyes more times than he cares to remember when all he’d done was spend one moment too long in Zayn’s personal space.  As for Zayn... Well Zayn doesn’t just look, Zayn will tell you to your _face_ to back the fuck off. 

The problem, he feels, is that there’s a free form _attraction_ running between them all, even though the concrete attraction is only between certain members, but the fact that they’re all attracted to guys makes for a certain blurring of lines that he’ll be the first to admit can and does cause issues.

He still doesn’t know why he and Niall never got it on before now, but then Niall is the only truly sensible one, the one with the strongest sense of self preservation, so he supposes that would explain it.

Funny that for a good while he’d been sure _Liam_ was the sensible one with that strong sense of self-preservation, but he fell into Zayn like a man in freefall and since he doesn’t seem to have any plan to _stop_ falling any time soon, Harry’s definitely had to revise that opinion.

Liam’s one of these guys who’ll make plans to take you out while smiling in your face, meaning that you will never, ever see it coming.

Harry hopes, therefore, that Ben is canny enough to know to keep his dirty thoughts strictly to himself.

Ben’s a good friend, and he’d hate to lose him prematurely, but does find himself idly wondering if Liam would get Paddy to help him hide the body.

“So you’re at a loose end, then.”  Ben’s practically rubbing his hands,  has clearly got some scheme in mind.  Ben’s always working, always working off what appears to be an excess of energy.  Sometimes that’s great – when they’re doing difficult stuff and his energy is the only thing that keeps them going.  At other times this same fucking energy makes you go t clubs or footy matches when you’d much rather be sat at home vegging out on the sofa.  Something tells him it’s the _bad_ kind today, and he’s about to find himself  on top of some damn mountain again.

“Not really.  Gonna wash me hair.”

Ben actually takes a moment to look him over, almost like he’s trying to assess if the hair is actually in need of washing.  “Go on then.  When you’re finished I got soemthign in mind.  Hey, don’t look like that, it’ll be fun.”  
“I don’t want to go to the Parthenon.”

“You don’t? Thought that would be right up your alley.”

“Don’t fancy travelling all the way to Greece.”

“Don’t worry, no ferries, trains or planes this time.”

“Any mountains?”

“What, in Amsterdam?”

“I was thinking in Italy or even Austria.”

“Like I said, short journey today.”  

He has that ‘hurry up, mate, time’s a wasting’ expression on his face and sighing, harry levers himself out of the chair.  “I swear, Winston, if I end up naked in the back of a van.”

“I’ll be sure to capture every second.  Now, go!”

 

 

**

 

He’s been sworn to secrecy and  while he can do it, it isn’t exactly easy keeping things from his friends, especially something like this.

But he’ll do it, keep the secret.

 

**

 

Niall phones him later that evening.  They’ve got two days free before the concert and he had sort of been planning – in his head, at least – to spend it with him , expecting that by then they’d have been to bed.

Well, that had been then.  They haven’t been to bed and looks like Niall’s gone out of his way to spend as little time in his company as he possibly can, so he isn’t exactly feeling well-disposed toward him.

Better not be expecting any favours, any _pleasantness_ even.

“Yeah.”

“Hello, Harry.”  He sounds normal, not like the dickhead Niall of the previous night, and Harry has to make a concerted effort to firm his resolve.  “How you feeling?”

“Great.”  He’s about to tell him he went out with Ben before catching himself.  “Went on a sightseeing trip.”

“Oh did you?  Was it good?”

“Very.  How was your trip?”

“Payno and Zayno spent most of it arguing.”

“Do you mean arguing or ‘arguing’?”

Niall’s laugh is one of the things he likes most about him. “Oh ‘arguing’.”

“It’s annoying, isn’t it?”

“Tell me about it.  Was alright though.  Bought some nice stuff.”

“Clothes?”

“And other stuff.”

“Niall James Horan, did you go to a sex shop?”

“I wanted to, but Paddy wouldn’t let us.”

“When in Amsterdam.”

“Exactly.”  His sigh is a heavy one.  “Can’t wait to be able to just pop into any shop I want, go to a cinema just like anyone else.”

Harry is tempted to ask him if he’d like to swap places, but knows he isn’t being fair.  Yes, he’s apparently the most recognisable face in the band, but the other guys also have it bad.  In this case, for the sake of this particular argument the _degree_ of lack of privacy is merely a matter of semantics.

“Me too.  So you had company?”

“Not really. They wore hoodies and I had me flat cap, plus Rose, Lynne and Sal was with us as well, Phil too, so we just looked like a bunch of people walking around town.  Some people in the shops kinda recognised us – Zayn first of all – but they were pretty cool and didn’t make that big a fuss.  But you know how it is, Harry – you still can’t do the stuff you want, can’t have a laugh with your mates the way you could before.”

“Worse for you back home.”

“Me being the only famous Irishman on the planet you mean.”

Harry smiles.  Niall gets really exasperated by this perception.  “Exactly.”

“I don’t mind.  It’s different, feels different.”

“They’re nicer, you mean.”

He can sense the shrug.  “In a way.  It’s like they’re proud of me and I feel...”  Another shrug.  “Feel protected more than mobbed.”

Harry has the impression he was going to say something else, that he wanted to say ‘loved’ rather than ‘mobbed’, but he can tell that he’s uncomfortable and won’t push it.  “Course they’re proud of you.”

“Yeah.”  He’s unlikely to say ‘they’re proud of you too, Harry’ because it’s not really true.  He doesn’t really get the sense that his fellow countrymen are proud of the band’s achievements at all.  Despite all they’ve achieved he is well aware that they’re engaged in an ongoing battle to prove themselves – to everyone who isn’t part of their dedicated fanbase.

He does mind, because success means more to him than record sales, exposure; it means being the best he can be and getting recognition for that, but none of it bothers him nearly as much as it used to.

“So you’re on your way back to the hotel?”

“Not yet – we’ve found a place to eat.”

“You’re eating.”

“Not yet.”

“Right.”  Harry can’t help wondering why he’s phoned – to tell him he’s having a nice meal?  “So , you are coming back tonight, though.”

“Course I am.”

“You.  Not Zayn and Liam?”

“Phil found them somewhere.”

“Oh.”

“Nice place, really quiet, but expensive – classy.”

“Oh.  Is that why you went out?”

“Yeah.  Payno says he’s sick of being stuck in the hotel.”

“We all are.”

“I know, but you know... He and Zayn want some time.”

Well, they all wanted that, didn’t they?  Didn’t mean they’d get it.  Finds himself wondering what they had to promise in return for this.  “Everything alright?”

“Not sure.  Payno seems to have something on his mind.  You know how he gets.”

Yeah, he knows.  They all do.  Liam has so many tells it isn’t even funny.  Especially when it’s obvious he has no clue he’s giving it away.  “Trouble in Paradise?”  He hopes not, but can’t help feeling that there’ll come a day when they won’t be able to weather whatever storm’s been sent to batter down their door.

“No, they’re good.  If it wasn’t mad I’d say he was gonna propose or something. “

Harry frowns. “Bit too soon to be renewing your vows.”

Another shrug.  “I know.  Maybe he’s gonna ask him to run away or something.”

“Not funny, man, don’t even joke.”

“Wasn’t being serious, man.  You don’t think-“

“You fucking know that he would.  One day he’ll bloody well do something like that.”  
“Zayn wouldn’t go along with it though.”  He doesn’t sound like he’s even convincing _himself_ , let alone anyone else.

The fact is that Zayn and Liam are both as crazy as each other and Harry’s been waiting for the day he gets a frantic call from Niall, from Louis to say that they’ve gone awol, disappeared completely, holed up somehow where no-one knows them, not even their family aware of their location.

He wonders, now, if that little pep talk he gave Liam might prove to have been just a little counterproductive.

“But they’re good, yeah?”

Niall answers, but it’s obvious he’s distracted, fixated on what Harry said, most likely planning  to keep tabs on his friends, examine every innocent statement they make for hidden meaning.   Oops.  “Yeah, man, they’re good.”

“So when can we expect to see you back here?”

“By 9 latest.  I know they want to get to the hotel soon.”  Still distracted.

“You up for a talk later?”

“Yeah, okay.  Gonna take a shower first.  You got any good Dvds?”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll bring some then.”  He seems to be waiting for something, or maybe that’s just part of the distraction he’s still experiencing.

“I’m up for a good long talk.  Bring some alcohol.”

“Now we’re talking!”

“I thought that would get you interested.”

“Talking always goes better with a wee dram inside you.”

“No comment.”

Niall had this way of making the slightest innuendo appear like the most salty, suggestive quip ever.  “Oh man, you’re in one of those moods.  I’ll bring  the Andrews, too.”

“Oh let’s _earn_ the hangover first.”

“Counting on that.”

“In a bit then.”

“in a bit.”

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not 3 chapters


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

He _expects_ Niall to be his usual self.

The conversation they’d had earlier had been easy, effortlessly, unexpectedly bypassing all the pent up anger and resentment he’d been sure would influence their interactions over the coming days, so he has no difficulty letting it go, wiping the slate clean, prepared to simply be with him in whatever way presented itself.

 The hotel they’re staying at was just that – a hotel – certainly not one of the luxury ones which’ll have amenities coming out its ass. It’s typically European – refined, quiet, a little staid. Couldn’t imagine running aroud half naked in the corridors here (and getting away with it). They’d probably be presented with a very politely worded letter (on headed paper) expressing sincere regret but to please never consider ever making reservations at this particular establishment in the future. Good luck with your clients’ future career...

 In short, he’s been really bored most of the day. Helping out with Ben’s project had been fun, but that had taken up only a couple of hours, and since then he’s been making calls, watching local television (he and Liam make a point of doing this whenever they’re abroad, exchanging notes after), listening to music, playing with the Xbox.

 None of that had exactly brightened his day; definitely needed company.

 Oh, and yeah, there _was_ company to be had, the ‘company’ just didn’t seem to wish to _be_ had, making excuses about having other activities planned, but maybe later, mate.

Fuck that! Maybe he wouldn’t be _up_ for it later. Ever consider that? As if he had hours and hours to spare, hours and hours of unoccupied space stretching ahead of him!

No, later he probably wouldn’t even be available.

He told himself that he would absolutely not clock watch; not check the time at all that evening; not listen out – even with only half an ear – for Niall’s return.

Ironic that there’d been a time when they’d not been trusted to remain by themselves in hotel rooms – mostly Louis’ doing of course. Sure they used to sneak into each other’s room, and hadn’t been careful enough to avoid getting caught by hotel staff on a number of occasions, but it was mostly the fact that Louis would sneak out and do stupid things that had got them so heavily supervised.

Louis could be a real idiot at times. No impulse control, always ready to do the craziest stuff simply to feel alive.

Harry understands this. There are times when you feel so suffocated, so hemmed in, so _controlled_ that you simply have to break out or risk losing your mind. Louis does it too often, though. Not like they aren’t all in the same boat, all subject to the same damn frustrations.

Weird to examine how he feels about him now.

No, he’s still special, a really special person, yet all the things he used to love about him now simply leave him cold.

Had he ever found Louis that hilarious, really, or was it that he knew how important it was to him to be the clown, the one who kept them all laughing?

He recognises now of course, just how much he deliberately subsumed his own likes, needs and wants to be with him, to accommodate him, making himself small to fit him.

Cannot possibly imagine doing that now, _won’t_ do that now – not for Niall, not for anyone.

Of course Niall has never _expected_ him to be anyone else. Yes it’s friendship, and maybe it would change were they to embark on a romantic relationship, but he doubts that. Niall is simply unique, the one who has always admired him for who he is – not his looks or sex appeal, simply for him, _Harry_ – every part of him – and right now he is desperate for that, for that simple, uncomplicated love.

Love is _so_ complex.

He knows he loves Niall, just doesn’t yet know whether he’s in love with him, isn’t yet decided whether or not that matters, whether it matters that Niall isn’t in love with him.

That’s the really complicated bit – if Niall isn’t in love with him would that make getting sexually involved easier – or harder.

Maybe Niall has to be in love with a guy to have sex with him or maybe he’s _afraid_ of having sex with a guy he’s in love with.

Harry simply doesn’t know, and though he’d like to find out, has quietly made the decision to back off a little, to not push this quite so forcefully as he’d intended.

Doesn’t know why, but having sex with Niall no longer feels like a good idea, and when they talk later he’ll simply treat him as a friend, steer clear of the seduction stratagem.

So, best rearrange the seating then...

 

 

**

 

Niall’s once again wearing the stuff Harry really likes on him, hair still damp from the shower, natural, free of styling products. His eyes are very blue and the flush on his cheeks reminds Harry of sex.

He can feel himself staring, so turns as casually away as possible, finding the jolly Harry voice Niall finds so amusing.

Niall’s laughter breaks the tension as planned and Harry breathes a silent sigh of relief.

“Brought a couple bottles.”

“Mr Horan, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Yeah. Can I sit on the settee?”

“No, you’re not allowed. Floor for you, you filthy animal!”

“Haha.” He throws himself on the sofa, bottles clinking as he neglects to deposit the bag first.

“Careful!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got more.”

“Er, actually was thinking about the carpet! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get wine out of carpet?”

“It’s not wine.”

“Principle is the same – someone has to lean this room. Let’s not make their job harder.”

Niall’s grinning, shaking his head. The salute he gives is crisp, very exaggerated. “Yes sir!”

“Thank you. Let’s have it then.” He holds out his hand for the bag.

“I’ll have coke with mine.”

“Ice too?”

“And a bit of lemon.”

“Sorry, when did I morph into a bartender?”

“The minute you offered me ice.”

Pursing his lips, Harry takes the bag, and spends a minute or two preparing their drinks. “Now, for some reason the hotel staff neglected to supply me with a bowl of lemons, so you’ll have to make do...” He hands Niall his drink, takes a sip of his own.

“Not bad. Bit heavy-handed with the coke.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

“Not a criticism, just an observation.”

Harry watches him over the rim of his glass.

He’s sprawled in his customary manner, looks cool and comfortable.

Wish he were mine, he finds himself thinking, and it’s the first time there’s an ache of yearning to accompany the desire. It’s uncomfortable, and annoying.

He hasn’t kept his promise to himself and the fact that he broke it so easily, so readily, even before there’s been any real temptation _to_ resist makes him feel small and weak.

It would be so easy to make it Niall’s fault but he won’t do that. Niall is simply being a friend, up to him to do the same, get his head together quick time.

“So, Liam and Zayn are sorted then.” He sits on the sofa, careful to put a nice distance between them, but turns his body toward him, and feels his heart smile when Niall mirrors the action.

“Not sure I’d say that. I think they’re sort of fighting. Not really fighting,” he hastily adds. “Just, like I said, Payno has something on his mind.”

“You think someone’s been playing away?”

Niall’s snort is expected; he only asked to ask, to keep the conversation going. Definitely doesn’t expect to be answered in the affirmative. “No, nothing like that. Like I said earlier, think he’s got something he wants to ask him.” He shrugs. “I dunno. I mean it’s sort of obvious, but I can’t work out what it’s about.”

“I might have an idea.”  
“Yeah?”

“A bit ago me and Liam were talking about ...stuff.” He meets his eye. “You know, _man_ stuff,” he teases, grinning at him easily avoiding the kick Niall aims his way. “Oi, no kicking!”

“No patronising then.”

“Okay, okay. So we were talking about relationship stuff and we got talking about him and Zayn coming out. Don’t worry, he’s not planning to. Or, well at least he wasn’t _planning_ to.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall is starting to regard him with some suspicion.

“I _may_ have suggested he shouldn’t be so afraid of leaving the closet behind. No, wait a minute I didn’t say he should come out – nothing like that. We were just talking.”

“But you think he might be thinking about it.”

Harry gives a sheepish shrug. Now he’d shared this with Niall the chances were fairly good that if things went tits up people would be pointing the finger directly at him. One thing for Liam to come to the decision all by himself, quite another for Harry to have whispered in his ear.

The vast majority of their camp considered his views on the closet a little zealous, potentially problematic, but simply accepted that as just ‘Harry’s thing’. Attitudes would alter drastically if they ever decided he’d had a hand in any of the other guys coming out.

God knows why he’d even said anything to Niall.

“Probably not. Not like he said much at the time. He was petty adamant about sticking to what he and Zayn agreed.”

Niall’s looking thoughtful and Harry knows there’s something he’s not sharing.

Was there more to it than even he realised?

“Fairly sure he won’t be coming out any time soon.” He is tempted to elaborate or further _embellish_ with stuff like how it wouldn’t be a good idea and how they’d need to give really careful consideration blah blah blah. All the things, in other words, he knows everyone says, would be expected to say. Apparently it’s only common sense to figure that no-one in their position would plan a coming out unless the reasons were incredibly. incredibly compelling. Merely wanting to come clean, live life minus the trappings of deceit doesn’t count as an especially compelling reason.

He understands that Liam wants to protect Zayn, knows that as a couple this is something they need to do together, but really cannot see how they could be content living under the restrictions they do. Yes, they’re happy, but is fairly sure they’d be _happier_ if they weren’t hiding the fact that they’re in a relationship, weren’t constantly fucking _lying_ whenever they’re in public.

While he hasn’t taken out a full page advert in the Times or anything to let the world know who he’s sleeping with, it can’t be denied that he no longer feels like he’s telling a lie every single day.

Liam’s telling a multitude of lies and they are none of them ignorant of the ongoing effect this has on him. And if it affects Liam then obviously it affects Zayn, too. So, all in all, in his opinion, letting go of the lie can only be a positive thing.

There’d be issues initially, course there would be, but he honestly doesn’t believe it would be as bad as Liam thinks it would be. It’s all about timing, all about the _way_ it’s handled.

He hates the lie, really, really hates it, and maybe it’s selfish of him to want the others to hate it as much as he does, to be impulsed to do whatever little they can to counter it whenever possible, but there’s a part of him that needs this, needs Liam to take that step, to pull himself out of the sphere of Zayn’s influence and do the ‘wrong thing’ for the right reason.

The band isn’t staying together, no matter how often they pretend for the cameras for the fans, and he secretly wants something to happen – _anything_ \- to hurry the process along.

If he were to out himself he doubts the impact would be that huge. It would make headlines for ages and there’d be yet another trope created. In fact he can see the new round of jokes lasting for years, never getting old, riffing no doubt on how he ot tired of being a womaniser and became a cock happy slut instead. And somehow it would be the women’s fault, the joke being on Taylor and all the other women associated with him.

Yeah, he could definitely see that lasting a while.

He’d prefer if it were Zayn and Liam who came out since he has no doubt that this would break them up.

He somehow believes they could survive his coming out, but not Zayn, not Liam, certainly not them coming out together as a couple.

They’d end as a band, and that would be unfortunate, but they’d all survive individually - of that he has no doubt.

Louis would find his niche – somewhere. Liam and Zayn would be stronger once they were out s a couple, and Niall would thrive.

The truth is that they’re running on fumes right now, and though he knows no-one’s admitting it they’re all waiting for something to shake things up, make the decision _for_ them, take it out of their hands. No-one’s got the balls to break ranks, but he knows that that’s what they _want_ to happen, for some outside force to intervene, bring the fucking runaway train to a halt.

No-one wants to be the one who breaks them up, but that’s going to happen, has to be that way. There is no way they’ll be allowed to simply end things. There will always be another contract to sign, the cash cow milked until she’s dry, so he thinks they all know – admit it or not – that they’ll have to force it, bite the hand that feeds them.

Liam and Zayn coming out would certainly accomplish that.

“It would fuck things up if they did that,” Niall says, eerily responding to his thought.

Harry stares at him without replying.

Niall is the only one who hasn’t got a dog in this fight. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be required to hide who he loves, who he really is. If he wants to fuck a guy a night for 12 months straight he could do that with no issue, so he has no idea how it feels to be hamstrung by expectations, hemmed by lies and deceit. Oh he hates having to lie as much as the rest of them, but it’s never been about himself or his relationships, always second hand, at arms’ length, so while he can sympathise, he cannot truly _empathise_.

And he is, after all, very casual about his attraction to guys, his discretion enough to offer him a sense of security the others have never felt in the same way, so no, he really doesn’t get it.

“I’m sure he’s not planning to. Ignore me.”

Niall nods, shrugs and turns to examine the newspaper Harry left on the arm of the sofa, studiedly casual, but Harry knows he’s far from casual, and will be mulling this over for the next few hours. Probably won’t confront Liam, since that’s not his way, but he’ll be watching him closely from now on, reaching his own conclusions in that quiet way he has.

He’s a scary one, so discreet you forget all the secrets he’s keeping, privy to, forget that he watches and observes and perceives – quietly, intelligently – so low key you’re startled when you see the banked secrets lurking in the depths of his whenever he forgets and lets you see.

“You should wear your hair like that. Suits you.”

Niall instinctively reaches a hand to his hair, gives a nervous laugh. “Forgot to comb it.”

“No, it looks good.” He takes another sip of his drink, making a point of letting Nail know he’s being admired. “Can’t wait to see you withut the blonde.”

“You don’t like me blonde, Harry?”

Harry shrugs. “I like you any way you come, Niall.”

Another nervous laugh and an equally nervous wriggle, leading seamlessly to a change of position, no longer facing Harry, offering instead his profile. “You’re mad.”

“It’s been said a few times, true. I vehemently dispute that though.”

“Careful – you know what they say – the lady doth protest too much.”

“Not sure the context...”

“The context doesn’t matter. If you deny a thing too ‘vehemently’ then people will think you’re protesting too much - cos it’s rue.”

“Okay,” he concedes, electing not to do what Niall wanted – deflect while he led them into shallow – safe – waters. “But no, course I like you blonde, I just know you’re not going to be blonde forever and I just wondered what it would look like to see you with brown hair every day for years.”

Niall snorted. “Don’t think I’d be able to resis the bleach bottle for that long.”

“Brown hair’s nice.”

Niall looks at him and it’s as though harry can hear his thoughts: yeah all your guys have been dark haired, haven’t they? “Blonde’s nice too.”

“You like blondes, don’t you?”

“i like hot, Harry. If a girl’s fit that’s what matters.”

“Not her personality?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How long I want her for.”

“Oh that’s cold.”

“What? You’re trying to tell me you don’t have one night stands?”

“Not saying that, but I do like to talk to them at some point.”

“Suck there, touch there, do you want a taxi? That about covers it.”

“Come on, Niall. That’s not you and you can’t pret-“

“You don’t know, Harry, cos it’s _different_ for you. Girls don’t want me for me, they want me for who I am – Niall from One Direction. I don’t trust any of the ones I meet, and the ones we know in the business they’re cold bitches – talking about you, spreading gossip. Worse than the feckin groupies.”

Harry stares at him, shocked. He’d had no idea. “Since when? Since when has it been that way?”

“Can I get another?” His glass is empty and he’s rising, the question a courtesy.

“Here, I’ll get it. Same again?”

“Yeah. Not so much ice this time.” His voice is light, but he’s solemn, as close to scowling as he ever gets.

Harry had never expected this to be a touchy subject – not in that way.

He replenishes their drinks and when he hands Niall his glass makes a point of sitting closer than before.

They drink in silence for a while, Harry doing his best not to look at him, make it clear that what he’s heard has upset him, but Niall hasn’t answered his question and he needs him to.

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Ages, Harry. Don’t know how you didn’t know.” And he sounds angry, angry at _him_.

“How could I know? You made it sound like things were really good in that department. You never said a word about any of this.” And now he’s wondering what else he has’t been straight about.

“Well how could I? What would you know about it, Harry. Not like _you_ have that same problem.” He tosses back what, in anyone’s estimation would count as several generous mouthfuls, easily emptying the glass.

Bad, bad sign.

What the hell had he _said_?

“Niall, I don’t understand. Why did you feel you had to lie to me?” Listening to the echo of his own words makes him cringe, but it’s done now, no way to take them back.

“Because you don’t get it, Harry. Already told you that.” He sounds more resigned than angry, but that’s no better.

“Niall.” He wants to touch him, just an ordinary, companionable touch on the arm, let him know they’re connected, still in sync, but he doesn’t.

“It’s always been easy for you, and there was no point saying anything because for a start it’s none of your business, and why would you even _care_?” He turns to him and his eyes are bleak. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Because I’m into guys?” His only answer is a shrug. “So you think girls are different? That it’s different going to bed with a guy?”

Another shrug. “isn’t it?”

“In some ways, but relationships – _sex_ \- is never easy, no matter who it is – guy or girl. You’re still dealing with a person and that’s just _hard_ at times.”

“But it’s not about the sex, it’s about the way they treat you, the way the see you. Guys don’t want to be with me cos I’m in 1D and it’s like getting a scalp or something.”

“It is sometimes,” he puts in quietly.

“Course, but you don’t pick them up from those kind of places, do you? Talking about the people who you think are decent and they turn out not to be.”

Oh. Well, yeah, then he could certainly relate. “But you’re saying that it’s been that way for a while.”

“Because it has. And because of that I stopped bothering. Now I just use them for sex.”

A silence falls between them then, and Harry doesn’t quite know what to say.

This has shocked him and he senses that he’ll need to be really smart, find some words of wisdom to offer Niall, otherwise they’ll shelve this, not talk about it again and things will end up being just awkward with this lying unresolved between them.

He just doesn’t trust that he’s going to do the right thing, here, do what a decent friend would do, because he senses an _opportunity,_ and god help, him has the distinct impression that he’s going to want to take advantage of it...

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Niall seems a little put out by Harry’s lack of response.

Well, he would be; not exactly the last words you want to have echoing in the silence.

Harry’s at a loss.

Clichés, a pat on the knee, a simple ‘never mind, mate’ (no matter how sincerely meant) – none of that will  help right now.

There isn’t exactly anything to fix, but it can’t be left like this.

“When I knew things weren’t working between me and Louis I sort of went a bit mental for a while.” He’s looking straight ahead , not wanting Niall to think it’s aimed at him, that it’s anything but Harry sharing, wanting to talk.

He and Niall have always been able to be open and honest with each other, but they have never talked about his relationship with Louis. Niall was simply not someone in which he felt able to confide, and he’d always been unconsciously grateful for that, somehow determined to keep his friendship with Niall ‘unsullied’, carefully separated from his romantic entanglements.

Niall had been fairly open about his own romantic entanglements (or at least that’s what Harry had always believed ) but had known not to expect the same from Harry. And it had worked for them.

Now, however, it feels like it’s time to change that.

He senses Niall’s surprise, tinged curiosity, head turned his way now, though his body is still tense, stiff, still facing away from him.

“I think I was punishing him, but myself too, and maybe thinking that by punishing me I’d be punishing _him_ too. Like I said, I went a bit mental.” Though Niall is still not responding, he’s listening, staring at Harry’s profile. “I slept around a bit – not just with other guys, though. Knew how much sleeping with women would hurt him.” Niall knows he’s slept with girls, so knows this won’t shock him, isn’t really sure what will, but he needs to lay himself bare – the way Niall’s done.

Not pretty, but sometimes you owe your friends exactly this – the willingness to _not_ be pretty before them. “Looking back, of _course_ I used them. At the time, though, I convinced myself it was just two people getting it together, having fun, but I never really saw it that way – not really. I was doing it for a reason – and can’t say it was a particularly good one.” Looking across at him, Harry gives a helpless shrug. “We all fuck up,” he finishes, voice low, solemn, hoping that Niall can accept what he’s saying, what he’s doing.

He’d contributed to Niall’s mood – whether he fully understands how or why – and is, thus, determined to be the one who’ll fix it.

Niall’s shrug echoes his, while the firm, abbreviated nod assures Harry that he understands perfectly.

Harry feels himself relaxing, feels the tension leave his body and it’s then that he realises that he’s sitting on the edge of the seat, ready to react to whatever Niall might do, whatever negative response he might have had.

He sits back, now, ready to talk, to touch whatever nerve either of them might have long been protecting, because of course they’ve been hiding, protecting, may be even using their friendship as convenient armour. And now, it looks like they might both be ready to face what’s between them.

Harry isn’t sure, isn’t sure this is what he’d expected.

He’d wanted it to be easier than this, less tense than this, clearer than this, but their friendship had always been so easy so of course Sod’s Law demanded that anything _else_ would quite naturally be fraught with difficulty.

He looks across at him. “I’ve been an idiot.”

Niall frowns, looks genuinely puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

Harry shrugs. “Lots of things.”

“Such as?”

Another shrug; how long did they have? “Being shallow, being a coward...” He looks at him, says nothing more, waits for him.

Niall meets his eye, holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning his head. He’s still holding his glass and spends a few moments, now, playing with it, turning it in his hand, seemingly entranced by its design.

It’s a lovely glass – heavy, expensive crystal – but it really isn’t that special.

“Can we talk?” Harry asks quietly.

“Harry,” he begins, but breaks off, shrugging helplessly.

“We need to talk.”

“Not tonight.”

“But you agree we need to?”

Niall doesn’t answer at once, and Harry makes a conscious decision not to seek to fill the silence, allowing it, instead, to build..

He doesn’t take his eyes from Niall’s face.

Eventually Niall gives him a rather sheepish look. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes seem a little darker than they’d been a minute ago. “It’s not a good idea, Harry.”

Harry knows he doesn’t mean talking, but elects to misunderstand. “Talking’s _always_ a good idea.”

He’s surprised when Niall laughs. “That’s not what you said to Liam the other day.”

Harry grins, aware that he’s made an error, but unable not to respond in kind. “Well, okay, not when it applies to Liam, but other than that...”

Niall’s smile is slow to fade, but Harry can see he’s uncomfortable, can see that this conversation is not at all what he wants right now.

He knows, however, that if he lets Niall go, if he allows him to change the subject, put this on the backburner, things between them will likely become awkward. It’s out in the open now, certainly enough so that being around each other will undoubtedly continue to be tense for a little while. So, it _has_ to be addressed.

Even if it turns out to be Niall saying ‘no, no , never’, a resolution is something they both need.

“Okay, how about I talk, you listen?”

When Niall looks at him, Harry swears he can see his mind trying to find an objection, a way to object, but can also see that he’s coming up empty.

“I know I’m not the easiest guy to have as a friend. I’m moody and often self-centred. I know I’m stubborn.” They both laugh at this. “And I have a history of going for the short term when it comes to relationships. In other words I acknowledge that I’m not ideal boyfriend material. You’ve always been my best friend, always supported me even when I was a dickhead. You keep me right, Niall. You’ve never wanted anything from me, never used me, never made me feel like I owed you a thing.” He pauses here, not expecting Niall to speak, but maybe the pause is for _effect_ , to perhaps give added weight to his words, to emphasise the solemnity and sincerity of his words.

He doesn’t know where the _goa_ l is, what he expects to come from this, where they’ll be once he’s said his piece, all he knows is that it’s time – the time is right, the time is now.

“I know there isn’t any reason for you to even want to change things - we work, we really do - but lately I’ve been feeling like I want more.” His pause is again done with some deliberation. Common sense, instinct, perhaps tells him that this is probably not the time to elaborate on the ‘more’ he wants. No point if Niall’s adamant that _he_ doesn’t want things to change.

So he’ll wait, wait for a sign from him.

Niall’s still watching his face and it seems to take him a while to recognise that Harry’s waiting on him, that he might just be required to do more than simply listen at this point.

He clears his throat, squirms a little in his seat. Harry can see his mind working furiously as he fidgets, plays for time, so he waits patiently, al the while hoping his attention isn’t pressuring him.

He’s aware that his focus is often interpreted as intensity and _translated_ as pressure.

The last thing he wants, here, is for Niall to misread this as any form of pressure.

Niall coughs, gives a vague, strangely abbreviated shug Harry can’t say he has any success in interpreting. “Harry, no, it’s not a good idea.” The words are clear, authoritative, but his voice is shaking and he’s really flushed now, displaying all the signs of someone in some discomfort.

“Okay. Sorry for putting you on the spot like that.” He pulls back, a little surprised to find himself so close to Niall. He hadn’t even aware, must have been _unconsciously_ closing in.

“Don’t be daft, it’s okay, man. We’re good, right?” He’s tripping over his words, sounding almost desperate and Harry feels like kicking himself.

At any other time he’d hug him, but he’s made _that_ bloody impossible, hasn’t he? “Of _course_. You’re my best friend – always have been, always will be.” He imbues his words with as much sincerity and reassurance as he’s able, hoping that’ll be enough to wash away the bad taste his previous words have quite obviously left in Niall’s mouth.

“Thank you. Means a lot, man.” But he’s not looking at him, and Harry, in an effort not to put him on the spot also turns his head, too and when the awkward silence falls neither is able to prevent it coming between them.

Harry’d worried that it would be the sex that might change things, but had no real fear that it would be the mere _suggestion_ of sex that would do it.

So the question of the day: has he simply been guilty of reading everything completely wrong?

 

**

 

 

Obviously he’s not going to confide in anyone about it – he owes Niall that much - but he can’t keep it bottled up.

That’s what he’d done before and the consequences had not been pretty, which is why he’d promised himself to never again let things get that far. To that end he’d started keeping a video diary – a repository for all the bile, the confused and jumbled shit that lived inside his head. Talking to himself, watching himself, hearing himself talk it through really, really helped – not only to put things into perspective, but simply as a sort of controlled explosion, there to ensure that he wouldn’t take refuge in sex or any other destructive practice simply through frustration.

He slept on it, of course, telling himself that by morning he’d have got a handle on things, wouldn’t feel quite such a failure, such a moron.

It wasn’t the rejection – that he could handle – it was that he’d hurt him. Somehow, not even knowing how or why, he’d hurt him, _been_ hurting him.

The insight had come, as these things do, like a sword, cutting through the fog of his self-centred musings on its way to the truth.  It told him that there was no fucking way Niall would be willing to be with him; it was there in every tense fibre of his body, the shaking of his hands, the hollowness in his voice, struggling to be his friend without attracting the type of attention he clearly feared.

And of course it was obvious now, now he’d ignored all the signs and gone straight in like the self-centred bastard he was, obvious that while Niall may have been mildly sexually attracted to him he simply didn’t want to _be_ with him in that way.

So now they were going to be awkward around each other, and people were going to notice; people were going to think what they’d think, and while that was okay from his end, it really wasn’t okay from Niall’s.

Niall had never made a move on him, had never given any a sign he wanted to take their friendship beyond what it was (had been), probably rightly believed that just because you were attracted to someone it didn’t necessarily follow that you were always inclined to _act_ on that attraction.

Niall had clearly been content to have that low key attraction humming between them – may be indefinitely, maybe until such time as he was ready to do something about it – and only Harry had thought it had to be resolved, acted on.

And now he’d fucked things up.

This is what he told his diary that morning, having woken from a broken sleep with the disaster at the forefront of his mind. Perhaps if he talked it through, admitted where he’d gone wrong, tried to forgive himself he’d have a better chance to be close to normal when they met up later.

Since he _knows_ Niall he knows that he’ll only be concerned for _him_ , concerned that he’ll be smarting from the rejection, so he needs to show him that this is not what smarted, let him know that it’s thinking _he’s_ hurt, that Harry’s been careless with him that’s the real issue.

He laughs to himself, wondering if their worry for each other isn’t pretty much the _definition_ of love.

Maybe he should continue to venerate the love instead of wanting to upgrade it, almost as though without an orgasm or two to add to the mix it’s somehow _defective._

He can get an orgasm from pretty much anywhere, while Niall’s love he can get only from Niall.

He won’t put it to him quite that way, of course, but he’ll find a way to say it all the same.

Satisfied with this resolve he stops the video, puts his phone to one side and goes into the bathroom.

This is is their final day off and he can’t deny he’s relieved; the less time he has to stew over things, make brainless decisions the better – history has proved that, though it would appear that he hasn’t (until now perhaps) _learned_ from history.

But he’s going to change that – this time he’s determined to _finally_ learn.

The first thing he’s determined to do is make it really clear to Niall that they’re okay – _he’s_ okay – and that there’s nothing he wants more than to have them back to where they were.

It doesn’t need to change - he was stupid to think otherwise - and it’s imperative that Niall gets that, gets that whatever crazy idea Harry’d had spinning in his head, it’s done with, expunged, and furthermore, there need be no sexual tension between them at all.

Now that Harry knows Niall doesn’t want that, he’ll shut it all down completely.

He _can_ do that, just needed the impetus – which he now has - so, everything’s sorted then.

As he showers he unconsciously runs scenarios in his head of his now entirely platonic relationship with Niall and how _novel_ that’s going to be.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

It’s funny how seeing Louis no longer has the butterflies jumping around in his stomach.

His presence now simply gives rise to the occasional  reminiscence about the old days, but there’s no real charge, merely memories both fond and less so.

He knows that Louis doesn’t appreciate that there’s no longer that charge between them, that Harry can take or leave him without any real issue, but well, that’s how it is, and since he’s never been especially skilled at manufacturing emotions  doesn’t seek to pretend otherwise.

They meet up in the lobby, and Louis’ alone (with his security, but that doesn’t count).  Harry’s natural; saying good morning, smiling, and though Louis responds in his usual way with a quip (at which Harry dutifully chuckles), it’s obvious he’s not happy.

Well, he hasn’t been happy for a long, long time, so this isn’t exactly a startling development.  Was a time he’d seek to make his unhappiness _abundantly_ clear, make it really clear that the blame for it lay at Harry’s door, but they’re past that now.

“Sleep well?”

Louis shrugs, hands in pockets.  “Not so’s you’d notice.”

“Nerves?”

Another shrug, meaning that the question’s stupid, doesn’t require an answer.  “Zayn and Payno’s apparently been put up somewhere else.”  He looks at Harry and Harry can tell he’s asking if he knew about it when he hadn’t.

“Yeah, Niall said something about that.”

“Niall?  Well Nialler’s the walking encyclopedia isn’t he? Or more like walking gossip column.”  The edge in his voice is barely hidden and Harry wonders for the hundredth time whether he’s actually aware that people can see it, hear it, feel it?  He suspects not, given the way he likes to present himself as Niall’s biggest fan.

“He does tend to get the juicy goss, that is very true.”  He’ll never give Louis the opening he wants, never take a poke at Niall with a Louis in this semi bitchy mode.  When he’s genuinely feeling nothing but love for Niall, well _that_ Louis’ a very different animal.

Harry’s often wondered if Louis has a sixth sense for when he’s making a move on a guy.  If he thinks back, adds stuff up, then he thinks the evidence would say probably, yeah.

Too bad.

They’ve both moved on, he a long time ago,  agreed that none of their shit should be allowed to splash on the others, on their _professional_ lives.

So whatever Louis think or feels about his lovelife is quite frankly immaterial.

Sure he might get hurt by witnessing it however peripherally  – Harry’s not disingenuous enough to ry to pretend feelings can be regulated just because it’s the right and proper thing to do – but that’s down to him.

Harry’s no longer responsible for the way he feels.

He feels a little hypocritical thinking this, however, since he sort of feels a little responsible for the way Niall’s feeling right now.

“You had breakfast?”

“Didn’t fancy much – just tea and toast.”

“What was the tea like?”

Louis laughs, shakes his head at him.  “Still brew me own, Harry.”

Harry laughs too.  “Course you do.  And how was it?”

“Perfect.”

“You don’t always get it right.”

“But when I do it does tend to be class.”

“Well, you always wanted it stronger than anyone else could take.”

“Like I said – class.”

Harry grins, hits him playfully on the arm.

Funny how different this feels now.  Once it felt so right, so much part and parcel of the aspect of their relationship they’d got right. Now, it’s just him and Louis – mates, colleagues.

It’s not the first time he’s slept with someone and afterwards just been friends, but it was harder with Louis – for loads of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that they’ve been pretty much forced to resolve their issues so that the band won’t be affected.

He’d wanted nothing more than to put distance between them once the fighting got intense, got ugly, but in retrospect he feels now that that would have been counterproductive.

This way they were forced to get over it, not allow it to fester longer than need be, and now he regards that as a positive rather than the utter nightmare it had been at the time.

The only slightly uncomfortable thing is that he’s aware that Louis has the inside track to him none of the others do, and though it doesn’t actively bother him anymore it’s somehow always there between them.

They know each other secrets and that fact definitely colours their interaction,  rather like a painting where you notice that the artist has added maybe an extra coat in one particular spot and whenever you look at the painting you always notice that before your eyes take in the rest of the landscape or portrait.

The fact of their history is that one spot, always there, whether your eye dismisses it after the initial observation or not.

He can read Louis, can often feel the weight of his thoughts even when he’s ostensibly paying Harry no attention, when his mouth is saying something seemingly innocuous.

Louis doesn’t like losing.

He has tried hard to deal with the inevitability of losing as most people have, but Harry’s aware that at core he hasn’t dealt with it at all.

He feels that when it came to their relationship _he_ was the big time loser, and Harry concedes that from his point of view it must certainly seem that way.

He, for his part, doesn’t see it in terms of winning or losing.  They simply weren’t meant to be.  This he can see and understand now – with distance and a level of maturity he hadn’t possessed at the time.

At no point will he ever  blame Louis for the failure of their relationship.  They both played their part,  and whether Louis is willing to admit it or not the truth is that neither was what the other ultimately wanted or needed.

Louis’ still in the mode where he thinks he wants Harry, but Harry knows that this is because he doesn’t like losing.

“You still going up to Jay’s at the weekend?” His mind’s on Jay as it often is when he muses about his former relationship with Louis.  They’ve  talked and she knows how he feels, doesn’t blame him, is, indeed, still very fond of him, difficult as it’s sometimes been.

But Louis’ distracted by the small group at the door – not typical fans but it’s clear they’ve been recognised.  He has a rather dismissive attitude toward their fans.  On the one hand he’s genuinely grateful for their loyalty, but doesn’t really see them as people the way Harry, Niall and Liam do and often gets really annoyed and exasperated by unscheduled encounters.

Harry loves them, loves that he’s in a position to be that celebrity who makes a fan feel special and exerts a special effort to be really _present_ for each one.

Louis used to really hate this, and it’s actually nice to be able to do this without getting a sarcastic earful afterwards.

_So_ many things he used to do just to please him, so very few things they actually have in common.

Not only do he and Niall have far _more_ in common, Niall’s personality also suits him; accommodating without being a doormat;  genuine, sincere.

Had Niall been here they’d have greeted the group, exchanged a few peasantries...

“You know when Zayn and Lian are arriving?” he asks to distract Louis, prevent him saying anything sarcastic about the fans.

“To be far I think we’re meeting them there.”

“Oh.” This surprises him, but he’ll get the details from Niall.  Louis is invariably sarcastic about Zayn and Liam’s relationship and Harry isn’t really in the mood.

Doesn’t really _blame_ him for it, they can be extremely aggravating to be around, and it’s not easy for Louis, wedged in between them the way he’d been the last couple of years.  It’s just that he’d rather not have Louis’ brand of sarky commentary  - well, ever again if he’s honest.

He and Niall can talk about the aggravating  way Liam and Zayn behave around them without any bite at all, unlike Louis where you’re often left not knowing whether he’s envious of their relationship or jealous because he wants to be the one on the other side of the bed.

He knows what that’s like; finding your friends attractive, being more than willing to explore sex with them, trying hard to keep it merely platonic.  Much, much worse, of course, when they’re involved with one of your _other_ friends.

It was so much easier when he had the anchor of his attraction to Louis to keep him grounded.  That was the one way he’d been able to ignore Zayn’s absurd sexual allure, ignore the low level attraction but rather more intense love between Niall and himself.

Since then, of course, Zayn’s finally managed to snag the one guy he’s ever truly pursued, making all pretence of interest in anyone or anything else utterly laughable, while Niall’s running scared now Harry’s a free agent no longer leashed by Louis and the aftermath of their breakup.

Harry still fancies Zayn, but it has never been more than a curiosity, a wish to know what he’d be like in bed – about getting that chance.  He feels the same way about Liam, some instinctual part of him sure that it would be quite the experience.  But in neither case is it about anything other than curiosity, the reason he’s never made a move owing less to the fact that they’re a couple and it’d be suicidal to try anything with either of them, and more to the fact that he doesn’t feel that way about either Zayn or Liam.  They’re friends, he loves them, they’d both make interesting sexual partners, but the rest of it simply isn’t there.

It had been there with Louis, it’s still there, always has been there with Niall, he’d just never felt in the right space to be able to explore that side of things with him, and now that he’d decided that he _was_ ready turns out that it took more than just him being willing and able.

Once again he’d been guilty of taking Niall for granted.

Never meant to, but looking back that is something of which he’s most definitely been guilty.

He’s sort of anxious and excited to see him, anxious and excited to test his resolve , see how this newfound platonic attitude will look and feel once he’s in Niall’s presence.

He’s actually quite thankful to Louis for being there, being there when he sees Niall, fairly sure there could be no better spur for keeping his resolve intact.

“Think everything’s okay?”

“With Payno and Azzi?” A snort (there’s always a snort when any of them discuss the state of their friends’ relationship.  Either it’s of exasperation or resignation or faux boredom, but there is always a snort).  “Zayn’s probably still asleep-”

“With his hand down Liam’s boxers.  Yeah, I know.”  He grins because it’s genuinely funny that Zayn apparently regards Liam’s genitalia as some kind of comfort blanket and has been caught more times than any of them care to recall sleeping exactly that way.

Louis laughs.  “All he needs is his thumb in his mouth to complete the picture.  And try telling him he does that and he’ll tell you to “fuck off, bro”.”  They’ve all learned to imitate Zayn.  Liam does the best impression, but Louis comes a close second.  “I genuinely think he thinks we’re making it up for shits and giggles.”

“Like any of us would ever do anything like that.”

“Exactly.”  They bump fists, and it feels good, feels like friendship.  “Coming up to their second,” he muses, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Can’t even believe they’re married.  How did _that_ happen?”

Though Louis smiles, Harry can sense that the conversation has brought up stuff that he may not have been ready to deal with.

Funny how, out of the blue, you’ll get caught on a feeling, a feeling you honestly weren’t expecting, and because it’s taken you by surprise the impact tends to be greater, lingers.

Harry suspects that though they had never genuinely been anywhere close to being ready or suited for marriage at the time there’s a big part of Louis that feels somewhat nostalgic for the days when they’d discuss it as a future prospect.  And of course it feeds into Louis’ sense of failure and the fact that he truly hates feeling like he’s been bested.

He failed to keep Harry, failed to be the one who ended it, failed to successfully woo him the second or even the third or fourth time, and it was surely hard to be with him, with him, discussing their friends’ successful relationship. 

Liam and Zayn had had pretty much the same external issues, same roadblocks, yet the fact that they’d successfully overcome them only served to highlight the bald truth – that it hadn’t really been the external obstacles that had defeated them.  It had been the ones that were always going to trip them up – the fact that they were incompatible, wanted very different things, not only in life but from their relationship too.

He’d like to touch him, give his arm a companionable squeeze to  say ‘I get it.  I’m sorry, too’, but knows from past experience that Louis mustn’t be given any kind of encouragement.  He’s like a drug addict or alcoholic for whom even the image of a crack pipe or syringe will be enough to start the yearning, so you simply cut him off completely.

Even when it goes against the grain.

Louis’ his friend and he empathises with him, so it’s pretty hard to figuratively turn his face, deny him.

And that’s the issue they’re having to deal with all the time of course – because while he’s over Louis Louis’ having a harder time letting go and these moments will, almost inevitably, keep arising.

It’s his hope that the more he continues to neither acknowledge nor respond to these moments the sooner Louis will find the means to let him go entirely.

“We should do something.”  Louis’ trying to mask the momentary lapse and Harry is willing to allow him to.

“For their anniversary?”

“Yeah. Throw a massive rave or something.”  His grin says he’s not being serious – about the rave anyway.

“Actually, you know what-“  but he hastily cuts himself off, silently cursing, and is saved from Louis’ inevitable interrogation when Niall comes running noisily down the stairs, drawing everyone’s attention.

He looks surprised to see all eyes on him, briefly meeting Harry’s eye, though the query is a general one.  “I’m not late, am I?”

“Well, put it this way, Nialler – Zayn’s already had breakfast and is in the car waiting.  So what does that tell you?”

“That you’re having a laugh.”  He laughs, pulls out his phone as he walks toward them.  “Look.”  He holds up the phone.  “Got this from Payno a few minutes ago.”

He’s close; feels warm, smells wonderful.

Harry has to stop himself inhaling as he gets close enough to look at the phone.

“Is it Zayn with his hand down Payno’s keks again?”  Louis gets between him and Niall with seamless, practised ease and Harry can only express his silent, albeit somewhat ironic, gratitude.

So much for the new platonic attitude.

Apparently it doesn’t hold up in practice, only good in _theory_.

Niall laughs again, meeting Harry’s eye. 

Well _he_ seems fine, not awkward at all.

Well, good, great that he can so easily put aside last night.

So it really doesn’t bother him that Harry declared his love? Well okay, maybe not love as such, just sexual interest, but it was still a declaration, the prelude to a proposal to _maybe_ have some sex. 

None of that disturbed his sleep?  Didn’t alter his attitude to Harry and their relationship at all?

Louis’ amusement is loud and genuine.

It is amusing, but he’s now far more concerned with Niall than whatever Zayn’s doing to Liam.

“So, we can expect to be waiting around for a few hours then,” he says, hoping his voice is as light as he intended it to be.

He really isn’t at all good at pretending.

Funny that he’d really convinced himself that he wouldn’t be _pretending_ when it came to Niall, that the new found attitude he’d talked himself into would take, would be genuine, and therefore, he wouldn’t even need to _try_ to respond to Niall in that platonic way.

But he’d  been wrong on just about every level.

Apparently it mattered that Niall be bothered by this potential new wrinkle in their friendship, mattered that he not be here bright eyed and bushy tailed, laughing with Louis, looking at Harry, regarding Harry as someone with whom he hadn’t just had a real heart to heart, cards on the table sharing, the kind of session where everything should have changed, where everything should have been turned completely upside down.

When he’d told himself that he hadn’t felt rejected by Niall, maybe he’d only meant it with the proviso that Niall be bothered by the rejection, spend hours mulling it over, be made sleepless by it.

Bu he wasn’t, hadn’t been, had clearly slept like a baby, and had very, very obviously put it behind him, maybe hadn’t even regarded it as particularly significant in the first place.

And apparently this made all the difference between being okay with the rejection and not being okay with it in any way, shape or form.

Didn’t help at all that all of this was going through his head while in Louis’ presence.

It very much mattered that Louis not get any inkling of what was currently transpiring between him and Niall.

So much for his presence being a helpful factor in his first meeting with Niall that morning.

Just how many other ways was he going to be shown just how offcentre his intuition actually was?

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Niall may think he’s being normal, but his sudden attachment to Louis says otherwise.

So, he _is_ affected, simply going out of his way to pretend he’s not.

While a part of Harry thinks this should offer a degree of satisfaction, the reality is that it doesn’t – the reality is that it only serves to royally piss him off.

Niall is making a good show of it – has to admit that – but their group dynamics becomes skewed, and there’s no question that _he’s_ the one responsible for that.  There’s an unspoken agreement that when it’s just him, Louis and one of the others, there’ll be a sort of pairing off where if it’s Zayn or Liam they’ll be paired with Louis and if it’s Niall he’ll be paired with Harry.

Well, today Niall’s decided to break that agreement, pairing himself with Louis, leaving Harry out in the cold.

The point of the arrangement is that it’s so subtle, so naturally conceived and accomplished that no-one is meant to feel left out in the cold.  You don’t actually _exclude_ the other person, simply ‘pair’ yourself with either him or Louis – so that they won’t have be the ones left with the lion’s share of the interaction.

This is the only way they’ve been able to ensure that things don’t get awkward or actively... spiky.

It’s not so necessary these days, of course, but it’s a habit hard to break, and the truth is that though it arose out of necessity it actually works, makes things between them run so much more smoothly, so much so that he doubts anyone would voluntarily seek to change it any time soon.

But for some reason Niall has chosen Louis, and though Harry doesn’t make a thing of it (he has no wish to alert Louis to the fact that there’s tension between him and Niall) it smarts.

The worst part is that Niall’s acting like everything is perfectly normal, that all is as it should be, nothing at all amiss and this truly pisses him off.

No, actually, the very worst part is that since he doesn’t want Louis to know there’s anything wrong he has to smile and go along with it, not indicate by either word or deed that he wants to take Niall by the throat, push him against the wall and...ask him what the fuck he’s playing at.

Well, rehearsals should be fun.

 

**

 

Rehearsal is not fun, of course, but it’s not just Niall and his fuckery that makes the morning go to shit.

In retrospect he can only wonder why he didn’t just turn off the alarm that morning, gather the sheets, cover his head and let the day simply do its own thing, leave him to do his.  

 

**

Liam and Zayn are late, and since Liam does not like being late he is in a _foul_ mood.  Since Liam’s in a foul mood, Zayn’s in an equally foul mood. 

Zayn’s the type of guy who’ll try to get you out of your mood – _once_ – before swiftly thereafter saying ‘fuck you, bro’ and proceeding to make life hell for you until you both get over it.

He – _they’ve_ \- witnessed this time and time again with them and it’s predictable and right now just fucking aggravating.

He’s simply not in the mood for their antics. 

He absolutely fucking hates when Liam’s in a mood, because though he’ll do what he needs to do the vibes coming from him are so harsh it affects everything you’re doing, and in Harry’s book,  that’s just shitty.

Zayn’s bad moods are different - very, very _specific_ \- and you know not to take them to heart.

If he had to describe it as a spell he’d say that Zayn’s spell would be the one that’d target a specific body part, concentrate precisely and intensely on that part.  Liam’s would tend more toward the entire body concept, one that’d paralyse you, but then have the paralysing agent morph into some insidious element that’d send painful albeit intermittent electric charges throughout your veins and arteries, letting you suffer for hours until release (the lifting of the spell or your demise).

While they don’t go out of their way to keep Liam in a good mood – he does that himself (probably because he’s fully aware just how destructive his spell can be) – but if they could find a way to avoid him when he’s in a bad one, well they’d all be fighting, tripping over each other to hide in the same tiny cupboard under the stairs.

Common sense tells you that when even Zayn can’t successfully deflect him from the mood then it’s time to run.

Oh if only you could actually do that, if only you weren’t _forced_ to spend the next four hours in his company.

And if only you didn’t also have to ut up with Zayn’s impatient, unapologetic baiting.

And Niall’s annoying grinning face...

If you didn’t have to put up with all of that then maybe rehearsal might have stood a chance of being the productive, enjoyable experience it really should have been.

 

**

“Look, if you’re not going to tell me when you’re going to come in then how the fuck do you expect me to back you up?”

Liam’s tone is not only angry it’s scornful too and that is absolutely the last straw.  He’s been  looking for a fight all morning, and though they’ve all been extra careful not to give him one this is more than enough as far as Harry’s concerned.

“ _You_ don’t lead; we’ve all got our own thing to do.  This is what I’m doing, no-one’s asking you to back me up-“

“Well isn’t that typical.”  Liam’s standing some distance away, but Harry has no trouble seeing the scorn in his eyes.  “No, actually, Harry, we don’t got ‘our own thing to do’.  We do our thing in conjunction with the other members of the band - that’s the point.  I know you think _you’re_ the one everyone’s there for, but for right now, while we’re working things out, can we leave the showboating for our sessions in front of the mirror?”

Harry’s furious and has to think _hard_ before responding.  He knows Liam’s in a bad mood,  that whatever bile’s currently spewing from his mouth is influenced by the mood, but this stings.  He’s not in a particularly good place himself and after twice being rejected by Niall his self-esteem is at a fairly low ebb.  For Liam to attack him for something he already feels sensitive about,  something Liam is fully _aware_ he’s sensitive about,  is just too much.

But if he says what he’s inclined to say he knows that would be taking it one step too far.  He’s present enough to be fully aware of what he’s saying and doing, conscious enough to make the decision _not_ to react to his carping in the way he might have on another day.

So he merely nods, making it clear by his expression that he’s not impressed, trusting that _Liam’s_ present enough to be aware that he’s giving him a pass – this time.

But while that particular bullet has just been dodged, he doesn’t doubt that unless something or someone can get Liam out of this mood he’ll be picking fights with others – Louis – and that’s unlikely to end well.

Louis is spiky, will definitely sting you, but Liam, once he’s in that mood will not only get your jugular in his sights, but will endeavour to go about ripping it out.

And Louis is not in a position to win a fight against Liam when he’s in this mood.

Liam has shown that he can be incredibly ruthless in many unexpected ways and they’ve all learned to be careful what they allow him to know, know that he isn’t above using their weaknesses against them.

While Louis will impulsively strike and of course display his own brand of ruthlessness, he’ll just as quickly apologise afterwards, and most definitely knows the line.  It’s not always clear that Liam does, has to be regarded as dangerous in that way, because when you don’t know what his lines are there’s no way to know what the fuck he’ll come at you with if you’re stupid enough to cross him.

And it’s definitely clear that he won’t be satisfied until he’d engaged at least one of them in a fight – not Zayn, obviously; he and Zayn don’t do that kind of fighting in public, but he does need to fight someone and soon – that much is very, very clear.

The only one it can be is either himself or Louis, so since he’s too aware to give Liam the opening, it’ll be Louis then.

Harry sighs to himself: even if he told Louis, warned him, chances are better than good that Louis would still fall for it, still lose his temper, give Liam the chance.

Louis simply doesn’t have great control on his temper or his impulses – even when he tries, even when he knows he shouldn’t react  - or overreact.  And he still hasn’t learned to be wary (enough) of the sting in Liam’s tail.

Liam’s so pacific, so accommodating most of the time, biting down on his temper so often that it becomes habitual to regard that as who he really is, effortlessly overlooking the dangerous aspect that’s also always been part of who he is.

And though Louis knows, of course, has been on the receiving end several times (more often than anyone else), he has that element in his psyche that demands he put his hand in the fire, see if he can avoid getting burned _this_ time, so as far as Harry’s concerned it is almost inevitable that he and Liam will clash at some point that day.

Most days he wouldn’t care, no longer has any interest in Louis’ well-being on a _persona_ l level, but today is simply not in the mood to fight or _witness_ any fights.  There will be the requirement to takes sides, to censure either Liam or Louis and he just doesn’t want to do that today.  The more fighting they do the longer this will take and the longer this takes the shorter the time between end of rehearsals and the concert and he needs that time to rethink the thing with Niall.

In fact right now he should be in his room stewing over what it might mean that Niall’s behaving this way, not biting his tongue wondering if hitting Liam over the head with a blunt object might act as a shortcut so they’ll get nice Liam right now instead of having to suffer through the whole boring process first!

And why wasn’t _Zayn_ taking control of his man, especially as he was clearly the one who’d riled him up in the first place?

No idea what happened between the selfie Liam had sent Niall earlier and them arriving at the stadium, but it was obviously Zayn’s fault, so why the fuck was he just sitting there (so to speak) watching?

“Take a break guys!”  Looks like Mikey’s as ready as he is to  call a halt.  Obviously the tension’s getting to everybody.

“Need a drink,” Niall says to no-one in particular, but this is his gift -  the innocuous phrase or observation designed to dampen incipient fires, defuse bombs, calm bears with sore heads.

It’s definitely a gift since it somehow, against all the odds, seems to always work.

Not sure it has any effect on Liam’s mood, but the point is it gives the rest of them an excuse to get themselves out of his sphere, an excuse to go elsewhere -  and maybe interrogate a certain person as to why he was being so weird.

“Me too, Nialler.  Let’s see what the vending machine’s saying.”  Louis glances at Harry, but it isn’t an invitation, just a checking to see where he is sort of tick he’s apparently recently developed.

Harry ignores this, focused as he is on Niall, wondering if Niall is going to acknowledge him at all.

Niall _has_ been communicating with him, but not in their usual way, and Harry honestly wonders if Niall may not think he’s being perfectly normal, that Harry can’t recognise the difference.

This isn’t the right place for any type of confrontation – not that he sees it as a _confrontation_ – but it’s poking at him, not letting him go until he finds a way to resolve it, and though he knows his mood is drawing from the tension Liam and Zayn hauled in with them he can’t seem to find a way to rise above it.

“Niall, can I have a quick word?”

Niall jumps off the stage before turning to look at him.  “Yeah, in a minute.  Gonna get something to drink first.”  It would be so much more natural, and exactly how it would have been previously, to invite Harry to go with him.  But apparently things are not natural, not normal at all anymore, so he nods and allows him to escape, genuinely surprised at how this feels.

When he was with Louis and things were going wrong, or rather when it became clear that things were never going to be _right,_ the pain was sharp and persistent, but it felt like it was  short term, something that wouldn’t last.

This is different; this feels like a wound, an opening in his flesh that could never be stitched, something that might fester, never heal.  And he has no idea _how_ it happened, how it went so quickly from the ease, and easy love between them to Niall treating him like someone who was just another friend, not even an ounce of that special thing they’d had between them readily apparent anymore.

Had it really been that fragile?

He watches him laughing and capering with Louis and feels a bitterness that surprises him.  Part of him, the part that’s always berating Harry for his overly melodramatic thought processes and responses finds the irony of it being _Louis_ to whom Niall chooses to devote his attention  deliciously irresistible while he simply stands there stewing in his own bitter juices,  wondering at his capacity to keep getting love so very wrong.

 

**

 

Liam’s buggered off somewhere and he’s taken refuge with John and the others, knowing that they’ll effortlessly take his mind off his own problems.

Zayn’s still around and Harry assumes it’s so that he can be sure he’ll not inadvertently trip over Liam on his travels. This way he knows where Liam is and Liam knows where _he_ is.

Harry hasn’t acknowledged him.  Not for any particular reason, well maybe because a childish part of him knows damn well he was the cause of Liam’s temper and does actually blame him for it  - for fucking up _his_ mood too.

So when Zayn approaches them he doesn’t acknowledge him now either.

If he’s got something to say he’ll say it.

Zayn stands at the periphery of the group for a little while, listening to the conversation, smiling  at the banter.  Harry knows him well enough to know that he’s simply waiting for an opening and if a clear one doesn’t present itself he’ll  be more proactive.

Either way he’s not about to give him any help.

Eventually Zayn makes his move – gentle, but firm hand on his shoulder, a charming smile as he says: “Need a word, bro.”

Harry isn’t fooled, of course: Zayn’s like one of those parents – dads – who say  “I want to have a word” and you immediately know it’s the prelude to a scolding.

It doesn’t take much to connect the dots; no reason Zayn would need to scold him for anything going on between him and Liam unless its’ a _specific_ thing (that wasn’t even Harry’s fault.  It had been a _discussion_ ; hadn’t even made a suggestion to him.  They had merely been engaging in a _discussion)_.

“Okay.  Shoot.” He’s being facetious, he know damn well that there is no way this is going to be conducted in front of an audience, but the ball’s in Zayn’s court, up to him to make the moves.

Zayn’s smile is a little strained and for a moment it even looks like he’s considering belting him one.  “Over here, man.”  His hand on Harry’s shoulder is a little like a leash ensuring he follows where he’s led.

Harry follows along dutifully, mentally preparing his defence.

They end up in one of the middle rows, no audience close enough to eavesdrop, especially since Zayn’s speaking voice is quiet - as is his. 

Zayn turns to him, regards him in silence for longer than is strictly polite.

Harry waits, though he knows that’s not the natural response.  He should be demanding to know what the hell’s going on, not sitting there like he already fucking knows what this is about.

Zayn eventually deigns to speak.  “What you said to Liam, bro?”  His tone is neutral, which, from Zayn, is always a bad sign.

Harry shrugs, deciding to play the role of the innocent guy who has no clue what’s going on, no idea why his friend is looking at him like he fucked his man or something.  Although, no, if Zayn  thought he fucked Liam neither of them would be sitting here, on the cusp of engaging in civil discussion.  “Can’t think.  Didn’t say anything to him that I can recall.”

Zayn’s gaze roves slowly over his face almost as though he’s trying to work out what he’d look like minus a nose - or an eye - a great big scar running diagonally from hairline  to jaw...  “You told him to come out.”

Though he’d been prepared for this , had expected it, had mentally rehearsed his responses he is still knocked for six by the actual accusation.

Well obviously Zayn must have thought he’d influenced Liam in _some_ way, but to be accused of literally telling him to come out?  No, that wasn’t on.  Uh-uh, no, not fair.

“I did not tell him to come out!”  His voice, unable to contain the level of indignation he feels, rises at the end, in an unmanly squeak.

Zayn is suitably unimpressed, probably having fully expected him to deny it.  “I know you think  everyone should be out and proud, Harry, but you know better than to interfere in my private life.  If me and Liam decide to come out it’ll be because we think it’s the right time.  Neither of us need you to fucking tell us when that is.”  He’s angry, but making an effort to keep a rein on his temper, and Harry knows he should just let it be, allow him to think what he’s decided to think, accept the blame that isn’t even really his to shoulder.

And if it hadn’t been for the state of his relationship with Niall and the subsequent jagged edges of his mood affecting his ability to cope he probably would have.

But he’s not in the space to be a fucking martyr, and besides, it’s probably time Zayn learned some home truths...

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

“I don’t really see how you and Liam fighting is on me.  _I’m_ not the one who made you disagree on this.”  He endeavours to keep it mild – to start with – but is ready to bring it up to the level required should Zayn decide to be a dick (a certainty)

Zayn doesn’t respond the way he expects.  Rather than snap at him he takes a moment to look Harry over in that annoying way he has, making it clear that he’s thinking something, whilst making it equally clear that you’ll never get to hear from his lips exactly what that might have been.  “What makes you think we disagree?”  His tone is very, very mild, enough to make Harry feel like a complete dolt.

“What?  But you just said...”  He tails off as his mind tries to assemble the pieces of what Zayn had actually said...

 “What?  That we were fighting over what you told him to do?”  He makes a face – a scornful face – accompanies it with an equally scornful shrug.  “You ain’t that big a deal, bro.”

Their eyes meet and hold and Harry finally understands that he’s offended both Zayn and Liam in some obscure way, something beyond and outside of the coming out issue.

Well,  the thing is he really he doesn’t like to offend people – inadvertently – especially those he regards as friends, so despite the fact that he really wants to be angry, be offended at the way Liam and Zayn are behaving ( _they’re_ the ones hauling around the dark, pissed off cloud that’s set to rain on _everyone’s_ parade) that specific component of his personality kicks in, making him want to profusely apologise – for what, exactly, he has no clue.

“Have I done something, Zayn? Liam was a bit funny with me earlier as well...”  He searches out his most sincere expression, wears it, hoping Zayn will not be a dick, come clean for once.

Zayn shrugs, averts his gaze.  He’s sitting, so he can’t put his hands in his pockets, but that’s what he’d be doing otherwise, that and telling Harry to ‘drop it, nothing’s wrong, bro’.

Harry waits, focused on his face - his profile.

Why won’t he just _say_ what it is, say what it is he’s pissed off about?

If it’s not about him and Liam fighting about not wanting to come out, then what is it?

He hasn’t done a fucking thing to either of them – the Louis stuff was resolved ages ago, and Zayn hadn’t really taken sides at the time anyway.  He is aware that he and Liam definitely had some differences of opinion over who was right, who was at fault, but that had been kept strictly between the two of them and hadn’t bled over into their attitude toward either himself or Louis.

The only thing he can think of is Niall, him making a move on Niall, but that doesn’t even make any sense.

Why would either Zayn or Liam even care about that?

And would Niall really have said anything?

Shit, what had he said?

For them to be mad at him Niall must have said something, something really bad.

Fuck.

He has no idea how to ask, how to even be _subtle_ about asking without fucking it up, but he _has_ to ask.

This might actually get him to understand what the fuck’s going on with Niall.

“Did Niall say something?”

Zayn turns to him.  He’s frowning.  “What? How do you mean?”

“About the other night.  What did he say?  I mean I didn’t do anything, only sort of let him know I  wanted a bit more than we have right now.  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t asking for a full-on relationship or anything, and it wasn’t all about sex either...”  Was that it?  Did Niall think it was about sex?  Did he think that Harry simply wanted to _fuck_ him, fuck him because he was bored, because, maybe because he’s the _only_ remaining option, since neither Liam nor Zayn are in any way available?

“Bro, what the fuck you on about?”  Zayn looks a little ticked off, but more than anything, utterly bewildered.

Oh.

 

**

And it went downhill from there, given further impetus with his clumsy – failed - attempt at a seamless backtrack.

That wouldn’t even have worked with Joey from TOWIE,  so it certainly had no hope of working with Zayn.

So, a fucking disaster in other words, which honestly could have been avoided had Niall not had the timing from hell, choosing that precise moment to execute his ill-timed return.

What the fuck had he expected, though – Zayn to jump up on the seat and shout out to Niall that he now knew Harry had made a move on him the other night, for the entire crew to stop whatever they were doing to focus their attention on his oh so riveting affairs? 

_All_ he’d had to do was say something mild, something innocuous – and truthful – like ‘forget it, wrong end of the stick’, then smoothly change the subject, put the attention back on Zayn.  Instead of which he’d acted like a prize idiot, absolutely ensuring that the chances of Louis now finding out had become pretty much odds on.

First Zayn would tell Liam and then they’d discuss it, mull it over, probably decide against telling Louis – until Liam either forget himself or deliberately dropped it in Louis’ lap on one of the many occasions Louis got up his nose.

Liam, Liam’s the last, the very last guy he’d want knowing even the most trivial detail about whatever’s going on between him and Niall, certainly not before he’d got it sorted.

Liam knowing would just basically fuck everything hard in the ass, which further meant pretty much abandoning any notion of ever, ever being in a position to mend things – properly – with Niall.

And to put the cherry on top of this custard pie of a day, his subsequent discomfort, naturally, reflected in his demeanour, which didn’t go unnoticed, the automatic conclusion being that since he and Zayn had been sitting together, _talking_ , they’d  also quite obviously been _fighting_ , too.

Had this sat well with Liam – his precious, scornful, crazy elf of a spouse fighting with the guy _he_ (for reasons that remained unfathomed) quite unfairly had it in for?  Had it heck as like!

Liam went for him in his usual I’m roasting you on a spit in my mind, and guess what, I’m mad enough to let you get a little glimpse of my actual thoughts right now.

While that was bad enough, the worst part was that no-one leapt to his defence. 

Now, on such occasions , Zayn, every now and again, did the world a favour, skilfully talking his precious psychopath down, but just as often simply shrugged and let him do his worse (apparently the altruism was mood dependant), so you couldn’t rely on _him_. 

Louis had tried to get involved (on other occasions) and been batted out the way (verbally, but also psychically (Harry having been on the receiving end of Liam’s spell would _swear_ a physical assault was _preferable_ )) so he isn’t as likely to jump in these days.

Niall was the only one Harry knew could save him, but he chose to figuratively keep his hands in his pockets and simply watch.

It was at this point that Harry knew he’d made an error in judgement rolling out of bed that morning.

He definitely should have stayed in bed; stayed in bed and concentrated on wishing the previous night away...

 

**

 

Not the first time they’ve fallen out during important public appearances, and for sure it will not be the last.

They’ve learned hwo to get through, manage it, downplay it, smile their way through.

Some occasions are more successful than others.

This is their final concert on the European leg of their tour and they’d planned to give 100% to today’s performance, but that is very unlikely to be the case now.

They got through rehearsals – just – everyone probably thanking their lucky stars that it’s the hundredth time they’ve done this, rather than the first, so while rehearsals had been a necessity, they’d not been vital.  They’d got the stage craft down, and since that had been the main aim of the exercise no-one had lost any sleep over that aspect of it. 

They had been planning some new harmonies and arrangements on some of the tracks, but with Liam being a bastard all morning, all afternoon, that one had pretty much gone the way of the dodo.

It just wasn’t like Liam to let his stuff get in the way, but whatever was biting his bum was distracting enough to have him lose his professional cool.

Harry has no doubt whatever that it has something to do with him, but if Zayn’s saying it isn’t about coming out he and isn’t about Niall, well, he’s completely in the dark.

He feels isolated, unable to approach either Liam or Zayn, having no desire to be around Louis, unable to find a way to be with Niall.

Niall’s made himself unavailable.

Oh it’s subtle (and he berates himself for once again underestimating the guy), not visible or apparent to anyone else, but Harry knows, Niall knows.

He’s giving off ‘keep your distance’ vibes, all with that ready smile and jovial attitude that serves to fool just about everyone who doesn’t know him as well as Harry knows him.

Well, he obeys the signs, but has no intention of walking away without getting some answers first.

How the fuck are they meant to conduct anything resembling a genuine friendship if they can’t be honest about their feelings?

He’ll say what he needs to say if it kills him.

Niall _has_ to grant him that opportunity.

He doesn’t want to change Niall’s mind, simply get clear in _his_ exactly what he did that sent him running so hard in the other direction.

 

**

Niall clings to Louis all afternoon, and since Louis isn’t an idiot he soon figures that something’s up.

Harry can tell, simply by his demeanour that he doesn’t know, doesn’t think it’s anything to do with sex – or love – and can tell just as easily that he has no intention of confronting either of them about it.

No, he’ll do something worse – watch, observe, work it out for himself.

Seeing this, knowing this, Harry decides to leave the plan to one side for now, endure until they’re back on home soil when he’ll be able to tackle him without anyone sticking their beak in.

It’s honestly not that long to wait, and having fucked up several times in as many days, decides that the best policy is probably to sit on his hands and simply wait.

 

**

The concert is a bloody nightmare and by the end he’s so angry that committing some unforgivable act of violence, preferably taking out each and every one of his band mates in the process, sounds terrifyingly appealing.

Well, maybe no Louis.

Louis’ the only one he isn’t mad at.

Liam and Zayn have made up and are fucking insufferable, practically having sex in the dressing room, making everyone else uncomfortable, and more importantly, miss their cues.

Since there’d been so much tension they’d all silently agreed to go into ‘professional mode’, not even Louis allowed to break character, and this relies - very much so - on sticking religiously to the rules – especially in terms of the stage craft, logistical side of things.  Liam and Zayn’s love fest is not only uncalled for, unnecessary (they’ve been sleeping together for years so why the fuck they can’t keep their hands off each other for  two minutes is beyond him), but interferes with the plan, impacts what the others are doing. They’re all trying their best to do their fucking job, and Liam and Zayn are selfishly making that a hundred times harder, their antics encouraging Louis to break character (at which point they may as well call it quits).

He knows he’s not the only one angry with them, but when he voices his opinion no-one fucking backs him up.

Louis because of Zayn and also because he see-saws on the issue of ‘backing up my ex’, sometimes clearly feeling hamstrung by thoughts of how it might look to other people.

Niall because apparently whatever offence Harry committed is enough to lose him a billion loyalty points, put him on the ‘do not resuscitate’ register.

Harry travels back to the hotel with Sandy and John, regretting affecting them with his black mood, but incapable of pretending to be anything but angry.

Such a tiny word for the complex maelstrom of emotions with which he’s struggling.

They’re flying home tonight and it should have been him and Niall here together (well they’ll still fly out together); together, thinking about spending the few hours between now and arrival in London re-enacting the night before.

Well there hadn’t _been_ a night before, had there? Simply a nightmare before – though of course he hadn’t realised at the time that it was a nightmare, had merely considered it a bad dream.

If only he had the gift of prescience, because then he’d not have allowed Niall to leave the room with everything still so up in the air.  Of course he’d needed time himself to get over the shock of Niall flat out saying ‘no’, but still, he could have done more to ensure Niall didn’t go away to chew on whatever had got stuck in his craw.

And that is going to drive him mad until he has a chance to ask Niall about it, get some sort of explanation.

He’d been so keen not to seem to be pushing him, not wanting to seem needy or like he was trying to exert pressure that he’d not fucking asked him a damn thing, asked Niall to simply tell him why.

And that’s where Niall has the advantage; he could say no without needing to bother with an explanation because there’s an inherent failsafe in the fact that the supplicant will generally have too much pride to demand a reason as to why you’ve rejected his advances.

Obviously Niall didn’t _consciously_ take advantage, except, well Harry is wondering now if maybe he hadn’t.

Not like Niall is any kind of idiot; not naive, not lacking in perception and he is very capable of thinking things through quickly, assessing a situation and seamlessly forwarding a strategy.

So maybe he _counted_ on Harry having too much pride, too much decency to pressure him in any way at all, counted on Harry simply accepting his answer and leaving it at that.

Well, that isn’t going to fly.

He hates people taking advantage of his good nature, of his decency.  Today’s been a veritable catalogue of people doing exactly that, and he’s determined that today will be the last day he allows it, stands still for it.

He’s confident he and Niall will remain friends, but has no wish for their subsequent friendship to be built on this particular foundation – dishonesty and obfuscation.

If he and Niall can only be friends, so be it – he’s happy to accept that – what he won’t accept is for them to be the type of friends afraid to be completely open with each other.  He needs to know he can speak his mind to Niall , that when Niall crosses him he can express his feelings on that without fear that Niall will simply take it, absorb it and not give him the same in return.

He’d rather suffer the pain of Niall’s anger than suffer the pain of him repressing his anger because he doesn’t care enough, trust him enough to know it’s utterly safe to express his anger.

What happened to make Niall feel this way, act this way?

They rarely fought, but when they had in times past it had been cleansing, the trust between them clear and robust.

And now?

Yes, he knows he’s done something that Niall finds scary or offensive – god, he just doesn’t _know_ – what he doesn’t know is why it’s enough to make Niall change, enough to pretty much blank him all fucking day, choose Louis (and Zayn and Liam) over him.

He knows that whatever he supposedly did is definitely not enough to justify such an out of character, over the top reaction, which is why he knows they need to talk.

No excuses.

They are going to talk.

And if his silent, focused attention during the journey home makes Niall squirm, well, that’s really too bad.

They’re going to talk and Niall can squirm then as much as he wishes – won’t make a difference.

He’s going to get him somewhere quiet and spend as long as it takes to get him to open up.

Liam and Zayn have something stuck in their craw that somehow relates tohim; Louis’ sometimes jagged and weird around, and now Niall, too?

No, that’s not on: has to get it sorted.

Liam and Zayn can wait, Louis’ a lost cause and nothing _he_ can solve; Niall, however, Niall is top of the list.

As he silently watches him Harry wonders if Niall seriously thought he could offer him this pale facsimile of their friendship and expect him to simply take it on, smile and pretend all was well.

So, as he’d earlier surmised, maybe Niall did actually fear him getting ‘weird’ about stuff, and okay maybe his fears were maybe somewhat justified because Harry’s about to get seriously ‘weird’.

And Niall’s going to sit still for it.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

He’s pretty good at it.

Well that should come as no surprise, really.  Niall’s so even-tempered that it’s no surprise he can smile even when he wants to punch your lights out, always endeavouring to present a pleasant face to everyone, every single time.  Well these people are the truly dangerous ones – unless that’s just a popular fallacy. 

Well be that as it may, Niall is nowhere near as dangerous as Liam, though they both, on the surface at least, have that same impulse to please everyone, keep themselves on an even keel.  Harry knows Liam does it because if he somehow fails to ‘keep a lid on it’ it’s likely he’d end up on some murderous rampage. 

Niall does it because he really is that even tempered,  though Harry sometimes thinks he’s fallen victim to his own legend, because now whenever he gets pissed off (and shows it) people always have something to say.  ‘Oh, what’s up with Niall,  must be really bad if even Niall’s pissed off’.  And he’s not going to exclude himself from that – he’s done it too (despite the fact that he knows better).

And can’t lie; he does like that about Niall – that he’s generally cool and unruffled, has those incredibly well-developed social skills – but not when it’s used against him.

On the plane Niall clearly becoming aware of Harry’s mood, dons his armour, the armour that doesn’t even look like armour, the armour that attempts to have you believe it’s not there, that it’s business as usual, that you’re not viewing him through the equivalent of a pane of glass, seeing well enough but unable to touch.

Harry knows this trick – Zayn uses this one, too; a little differently, with maybe not as great a degree of skill as Niall, but it is the same trick all the same.

Well, to be fair, they all have tricks they employ – couldn’t get through a day in the spotlight otherwise – but the point is that you don’t do it with each other.

He’s wanted to tell both Niall and Zayn this forever, and who knows, maybe he’ll finally get the opportunity.

Or does he mean the guts? It’s pretty hard telling your mates to change their behaviour simply to make _your_ life easier.  If Niall and Zayn want to use their armour against him, what’s he meant to do about that?  Which is why, of course, he’s never yet tried to broach the subject with them.

Liam’s so much easier to talk to that way.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s always trying to change, trying to ‘perfect’ himself which makes it so much easier to address these issues with Liam than pretty much anyone else.

When he isn’t being a prick, that is.

Thank God there’s no need to see any of them for the next few days.

Everyone needs the time, the space to calm the fuck down.

Well, not him, not Louis...  Yeah, just Zayn and Liam.

And Niall.

 But maybe saying Niall needs to calm down might be misrepresenting it – calming down is clearly not the issue.  Maybe come to his senses might be more accurate.  Not that he’s implying that Niall’s refusal of his proposal (which he hadn’t even got the chance to really put forward) displays clear signs of incipient madness or anything like that.

 But he’s not acting like himself, he really isn’t.

The way he’s pretending that he doesn’t know Harry’s upset with him, that Harry’s stewing over the events of the previous night. 

That is not normal. 

It’s like he’s determined to keep pretending and pretending until he reach the safety of English soil and then, what, run to his castle and pull up the drawbridge?

Like that’s going to keep him out.

Even employing a fire breathing dragon to patrol the ramparts won’t keep him out, and if Niall doesn’t know that by now...

Well, maybe that’s all to the good; let him have this, let him get to his castle, lock the doors, hole up with his beer and his tv and his music, his cookery books, his trusty iPhone, fool himself that he’s safe.

He isn’t.

But he’ll let him run for now.

 

**

 

No-one knows where he lives.

He pays for the privilege, of course, but it’s so worth it.

He has no idea and has given up _trying_ to know how the fans know their itinerary to the last trivial detail; know when their planes arrive, know where they’ll be at any given time.

It used to exhaust him knowing that no matter what, there’d be no way he’d ever get from one spot to another, no matter the distance between, without a gaggle of fans dogging his heels, but now he’s aware that suffers a measure of disorientation when they’re not there.

There are elaborate tricks played in order to get them looking the other way as he takes the long way home.

He loves London and does resent that he’s had to move out of the city in order to safeguard his privacy, but well, that’s his life now, and horror of horror finds  that he’s sort of grown accustomed to it.

He makes his usual offer to Aaron to come in for a cuppa, but Aaron’s American and doesn’t appear to know that hot beverages come in flavours other than coffee, so as expected he’s politely refused, kept to one side as Aaron checks the house, then once he’s given the all clear, goes inside and waves him off, silently watching as the car drives slowly, carefully away.

Aaron is very respectful of the neighbourhood and always appears to be holding is breath whenever he’s here.

Ah the neighbourhood.

That is definitely one of the major perks of being well-off.

There’s a part of him that would welcome the feeling of community country living is meant to impart, but Harry can’t help feeling that these country folk would not welcome him into their community at all and accepts that that’s likely not going to happen here.

Maybe in LA, or Marbella, or even Paris, though he’s heard that Parisians can be pretty exacting when it comes to conventions, customs and ...innate cool.

No matter; he’s happy here for now and the isolation is actually good for him, stops him giving into the ever present temptation to go out into the big bad city where he knows he’s sure to get papped.

Funny to recall how much he’d hated that at one point,  given that he now feels somewhat slighted whenever they leave him be.

Ironic if one day he should actually find himself going up to a pap, tapping them on the shoulder, asking: ‘why aren’t I being papped? Don’t you find me interesting anymore?’

He could definitely see that happening.

Tickled, he feels his mood elevated a little and he’s smiling now as he runs an appreciative around the imposing hallway.

All he really wanted was a luxury apartment – like Liam’s old place  - has no bloody idea how he keeps ending up with huge houses he can’t possibly hope to make _feel_ homey.

He really doesn’t like being alone, but for reasons of safety had been forced to make the move.

The location and, therefore, the type of dwelling had wholly been dictated by the propensity for his most ardent ‘fans’ to find him no matter the subterfuge employed to circumvent their efforts.

They are unlikely to find him here, but he does pay a price for that – loneliness and boredom.

Still isn’t used to the place, definitely not used to being here all by himself.

And there he was thinking he’d have Niall here tonight, tomorrow, the remainder of the week.

So much for that, so muc for counting your chickens.

He wanders into the kitchen, distracted, mind caught between feeling sorry for himself and being pissed off with Niall.

Why Louis, though?  Well, he knows why, could pretty much track the thought processes that had led him there, but that _didn’t_ mean he had to like - or accept it.

If he’d chosen either Liam or Zayn – both – Harry doubts he’d have felt so ...injured.  Louis was a touchy subject – for him, certainly, but in a way for Niall, too.  He’d been there when Harry had been at his lowest ebb, raw and hurting, so Niall knew, knew exactly what ‘Louis’ represented for him.

Sighing, he opens the fridge, takes out a carton of juice.

Unfair to blame him, he knows that, but he’s still a little bruised from the events of the day, the events of the previous day, and since he knows he’ll be up all night , sleepless, mind running like a hamster on a wheel, gives himself a pass for not being a bloody saint...

Niall’s already home – unless he has other plans.

Should he check, text him, see if he responds?

What if he doesn’t?  What if he ignores his text and when Harry confronts him, claims that he was with someone and hadn’t seen it?

Niall’s really good at making shit up in the spot and getting you to believe it.

He and Liam are past masters at that, which Harry presumes is part and parcel of the glib front they’re both so adept at presenting.

When he finally understood that Liam was a fucking brilliant liar it forever changed the way he saw him.  Niall, he doesn’t see in quite the same way; he doesn’t lie with the same facility as Liam, simply gives you a smooth shiny surface so that you literally can’t see beyond that. 

_Lying_ is one step removed from that.

Liam is the best and biggest liar in the band, and Harry still cannot quite comprehend how that can be, not when Liam’s so...Liam-like.

Liam doesn’t have a shiny surface, Liam literally has a holographic image behind which the real Liam hides, and only a very few people ever see the genuine article.

Harry presumes that Zayn is the only one who can see it, has had the capacity to see it from the start.  Zayn, after all, is the only one who fell hard for him straight away, and Zayn is a man known to have the capacity to see through bullshit and inauthenticity like a man equipped with x ray vision.  So he must have seen right through the hologram to the _real_ liam whereupon he apparently  fell in love.

Harry can’t lie, he does find Liam attractive, but is fairly certain he’d have murdered him in his sleep long ago – had they been crazy enough to attempt a relationship .

There were just some people you’d fuck but never be able to tolerate otherwise.  Liam is definitely on that list – fuckable, _lovable_ , but ‘please leave now’ kind of thing.

Speaking of guys you wouldn’t mind fucking...

He takes out his phone and without allowing himself time to consider sends a text.

There.

Done now, no point second guessing.

Yeah, easy enough to say, but what’s the betting he’ll be awake all night waiting for a reply?

Shaking his head at his own stupidity he finds his way into the lounge, not at all trying to watch telly in the hopes of staying awake so he won’t, instead, find himself lying in bed chewing over stuff he’s chewed over a thousand times already.

And definitely not in the hopes of getting a reply to his text.

 

**

No idea why he didn’t text back, but maybe he’s still trying to pretend it’s business as usual.

“You sound chipper.  Time is it?”  He rolls on to his back, waiting, since the question is not rhetorical.

Niall laughs.  “And _you_ sound like you’re still asleep.  It’s 8.30, Harry.”

“Oh you are joking!  I only got to bed 3 hours ago,” he groans.

“You _always_ say that.”

“So why did you call me at this ungodly hour then?”

“Cos I expected you’d have got plenty of sleep.” The briefest of pauses.  “What kept you up till 5, then?”

“Some DVDs, a few shopping channels...Youtube, twitter.”

Niall laughs again.  “Okay, okay, I get the picture.  So you don’t want any visitors then.”

If Harry had been in a romantic comedy where he was the cute ditsy blonde and the scene was set in a very low ceilinged cabin or failing that a box or maybe even a coffin this would have been the cue for him to cutely bump his head on said low ceiling or coffin lid in his surprised excitement.  “Please don’t tell me you’re on my doorstep!” His gaze automatically turns to take in the windows which overlook the front of his house.

“Oh, you want me to go away and come back again?”

“Niall, do not fuck around.”  He scrambles out of bed – naked – and hurries to the window, heart galloping.

The courtyard is empty – no car, no Niall.  “Fuck you, you dickhead!”  He’s both amused and a little pissed off, trusts that his toe conveys this.

Niall is too busy laughing to respond and Harry seriously considers chucking the phone in the bin.

“So you’re at home then.”

Recovering – it really hadn’t been _that_ funny – Niall agrees that he is indeed at home.

“And you’re alright about me coming over later?”

He strains every fibre to ‘hear’ the construction of the lie, confident that he’ll just know, be able to hear it in Niall’s voice.

And sure enough there’s he tell-tale hesitation – fraction of a second, but enough. “You wanna risk one of my Jamie specials?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to take a fraction to compute, to compose his answer. 

Is he trying to put him off, stall for time, or is it a genuine invitation?  To think that less than a day ago he’d have known or at least wouldn’t have had cause to question.

Sex, love, even, definitely had a tendency to make the simple oh so fucking complicated.  “Jamie’s never steered me wrong before.”

“Always a first time for everything, Harry.”  His voice is quiet, devoid of that bantering tone Harry would have expected.

He frowns, unsure.

What’s going on? 

“So is that your way of saying the meal’s going to be inedible?”

“Not if all goes well, but you never know.”

“That is very true.  So I’m invited for a Niall special, then.”  Wow, really?  He really went there.  Well too late to bring it back; to draw attention would be a really dumb thing to do. “I mean a speciality. You do have a speciality don’t you?”  God, would someone throw a stone through the window or something, set off all the alarms in the area – anything to stop him talking?

“Well, I dunno if I’d call it a _speciality_ , but there are one or two things I do well, yeah.”  And there’s no banter or flirtation in his tone, but neither is he pretending he doesn’t know what track Harry’s mind is on...

Oh, okay then.

Wow.

What?

 “Well, that’s good.  We all like to think we have one or two special skills.”

“Yeah.”

And that was that then – if Niall wasn’t going to forward the conversation then that was the end of the conversation since clearly he doesn’t have the capacity to steer it anywhere at all.

It had stalled, banked and he was going to let it slowly (or maybe quickly) sink since he honestly couldn’t see how to rescue it otherwise.

“You spoken to Zayn and Liam?”

Harry tries not to make his sigh of relief _audible_.

Zayn and Liam is a sensitive topic right now, but he seizes it as the lifeline it might just prove to be.  “Not since the concert.  Why?  Something happen?”

“Not sure.  I mean, no, not as far as I know, but obviously there’s something wrong.”  There’s a quality of expectancy in the silence and Harry presumes he’s referring to the overt hostility displayed by both Liam and Zayn toward him.

Well welcome to the bloody club –he’d quite like to know why he’s on their shit list all of a sudden.

Why the fuck could Zayn not just be straight for once?  He isn’t a liar the way Liam is, but he has this way of simply withholding stuff that in its own way is just as bad.

Of course Harry has no doubt that had he had the opportunity to ask _Liam_ what the problem was he’d actually have been told, but he’s been unable to get past that barrier of hostility to even broach the topic.

Wonder if...

“Niall, do you have any idea why Liam’s pissed off with me?”

If Niall knows, he’ll tell him, but he can feel the shrug even through the phone.  “Mate, I seriously have no idea...”  He falls silent for a second then coughs a little, clearly uncomfortable.  “i should have jumped in yesterday.  Liam was out of order and I should have said something.”  He’s stumbling a little over his words the way he tends to do when he’s seriously discomfited and all Harry wants to do is save him.

He’d wanted this, had been pissed off because Niall had failed to give him this, but now, now he realises that that probably hadn’t been it at all.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, and Harry can hear the resigned sigh he’s careful _not_ to vocalise.  “You wanna come for lunch?  We can make it together.”  He laughs.  “Remember Chicago?”

“Oh you did not!”

“I did.”

“Thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”

Niall spends the next few moments laughing while Harry listens, grinning like an idiot.

It feels like they’re back on track, but he knows better than to count his chickens these days.

He still needs the air cleared and will endeavour to see that happens , and _will_ push – but not on anything other than getting their friendship back on track, and transparent.

The rest of it is no longer important.

Oh and he has quite a surprise up his sleeve – which ought to make Chicago nothing more than a distant memory.

Funny that he’d been debating all night whether to try to get Niall over to his place or go to his, eventually deciding that Niall’s place was better since he couldn’t actually _leave_ his own place, couldn’t use the journey home as an excuse to _leave_.

And here he was apparently intent on making things easy for him.

Didn’t fool himself that the rest of it was going to be as easy, however.

Definitely not counting any chickens.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

Spending all day with Niall isn’t a problem, they’ve done that lots of times.  Niall’s easy to be with, doesn’t have that thing where he demands your attention at all times, won’t let you just do your own thing without passive-aggressively ensuring that you’re made fully aware that you’re been selfish.  Louis needs to be the centre of attention, needs to be the centre of your world.  And there was a time, of course, when Harry had been more than happy to be that acolyte for him, happy to convince Louis that he was indeed the centre of Harry’s world.

Feels like a different world, now, though, certainly a different Harry.  But that’s what he’d thought love was – that intensity, that obsession, that need to be all things and _every_ thing to that one person and they to and for you.

The intense sexual attraction between himself and Louis had been more than a naive, unworldly 16 year old could handle, had been bound to be interpreted as something more, something that looked and felt like ‘love’.  Of course, he knows now that it had been love, but love from the perspective of that 16 year old is one thing and looks very different to his 22 year old eyes.

He can’t and won’t deny that he loved him, but he no longer believes that love just is, is something objective, something that can be excluded from _interpretation_.  He knows, therefore, that there’d be many opinions assuring him that what he felt for Louis was mere puppy love or perhaps an intense crush, and he’d _understand_ that perspective, for now, now he sets that experience alongside what he sees in Liam, in Zayn, in their love; sets it against his friendship with Niall he does find himself wondering.

Love, yes, but not the kind of love this Harry values or wishes to necessarily ever repeat.

It wasn’t anything he _regretted_ , would ever regret; it had been too, too good (when it had been good) for that, but he no longer believes that he’ll look back and perceive Louis as the love of his life, merely his _first_ love.

It’s funny to realise, now, some 5 years later that Niall had always been there, offering a cool drink of water when the intensity of living with Louis became more than he could handle; a calming balm to his many hurts, and he’d loved him for so long, with such ease and lack of drama that it just became woven into the pattern of his life, till he couldn’t even see it, not without taking a long step back and _looking_.

As he gets ready for his day with Niall harry muses on the fact that it does appear to be true that you rarely ever notice what’s right under your nose.

He only hopes it isn’t _also_ true that you only ever value a thing once it’s gone.

 

**

 

Niall buzzes him in. 

Harry can smell the aroma of pies being reheated, chips being fried...

“Thought you were doing Jamie!” he protests as he makes his way into the kitchen.

Niall’s at the table, leafing through the sports pages, but chuckles.  “I am – later.  You surely can’t expect me to do both lunch and dinner, Harry!  I’m only _copying_ him, not trying to _be_ him!”

“Haha.”  He chooses the seat opposite, taking in his relaxed appearance,  aware that they’re not quite clear as yet, not quite beyond the woods, despite the ease of their banter.  He doesn’t want Niall to lull him into a state where he’ll simply forget the jagged edges between them, smoothed over with the affection, the genuine love they feel for each other.  It’s important to look at the edges, smooth them over naturally, consciously, not mask them with something that only hides, makes momentarily safe the sharp teeth behind the pleasant closed mouth smile.  “You do know that a chef never sleeps, right, doesn’t only ever cook the _evening_ meal?”

Niall’s eyes widen.  “No!”

“Sorry, Niall, but it’s true.  Once you sign up you’re cooking breakfast, brunch, elevenses, lunch, snacks, tea, supper, dinner all day, every day.  Gasp! Maybe even the odd dinner party too!”

“No! Harry, help me.  What have I done?”  He puts his head on his arm and begins to sob.

“Ah, mate, I’m sorry.”  He rests a comforting hand on Niall’s head.  “But you should have read the small print.  You must always read the small print, Niall.  You know better.”

“I know and I did, but they never put all that in the print Harry, just said ‘you’ll have fun, mate, lots to eat, mate’.  I’ve been duped.”

“There, there.  Happens to the best of us.”

Niall sobs for a little longer, then abruptly gets up to check on the frying chips.  “Nearly done.”

“Not too many for me.”

“I know.  You want the pie, though, don’t you?”

“My favourite?”

“Of course.”

“Then a big piece for me, then!”

“Steady on, you’re not a guest!”

“Then what am I?”

Niall shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

Harry watches him.

He has a grace that’s always fascinated Harry, an economy of movement that’s so natural, so enticing to observe... But then Niall _is_ like a balm on shredded nerves.

“So we definitely doing something for their anniversary then.”

Niall isn’t at all fazed by the question, and that’s what he’s always loved about Niall, the way he just lets you be, lets you be exactly who you are without needing to draw attention to you, to him, to his wit.. “We should, yeah.”

“Not got much time to plan anything.”

“Shouldn’t be anything big, though, Harry.”  He shakes the chip basket.  “You know what Zayn’s like.”

“Yeah,” he says absently, wondering if he should tell him.  It’s sort of a secret, but well, more of a _surprise_ , really and if he can tell anyone and remain confident it’ll stay with them that person would be Niall.  “Promise you won’t say anything.”

He has Niall’s attention, the other man stopping for a moment to look at him.  “I promise.”

Simple as that – no questions, no qualifications before deciding, just a simple promise because he asked.  “Ben’s made a special film – sort of documentary, cum music video – and I’m narrating it.  We finished up in Amsterdam the other day.  Look, he kept it from me until the other day!  Just asked me to do the voice over because we had access to some special studio and some specialist vid maker.”  He shrugs.  “Don’t ask me, some technical stuff only Ben understands, but it’s about them, footage of them being Zayn and Liam that Ben’s taken over the years, that we’ve all taken – and shared.  Some of it’s from Karen and Geoff and Trisha and the girls – so they’re in on it – but I think he sort of wanted to keep it quiet until closer to the time so they’ be no chance of any of us spilling the beans and spoiling it.”

He can see the thoughts swirling around Niall’s mind, but though it’s tempting to see Louis as the one least trustworthy when it comes to secrets, the truth is actually a little different.  Louis can be trusted to keep a secret, what he can’t always be trusted to do is stop himself from being ‘clever’ and witty about dropping obscure hints that only those in the know would fathom, which, in the end, serves to make him rather worse than Liam when all’s said and done.

Niall’s smiling, the chips forgotten.  “Man, that is cool! They’re gonna love that!  You seen it?  Is it good?”

“Not seen the finished product, but I think it’s gonna be.”  His smile reflects the relief he feels at finally being able to share the secret.  Hadn’t really comprehended just how much of a burden it had been.

“Can’t wait.”  Niall’s  smile’s turned into a huge grin.  “Is it soppy? Bet it is.  Cannot wait to see their faces!”

“Me either.”  Though he, Zayn and Liam have some unknown issue standing between them and friendship right now, the intrinsic friendship, as far as he’s concerned, is still intact and since he has no sense that this issue will remain unresolved past the weekend, can think of nothing more rewarding than being part of this project designed to show them exactly how well they’re loved.

“But we have to keep it under wraps until the day.  Okay?”

“Aye, aye cap’n.”  Another grin as he turns away to pour the chips into a bowl.  “Harry, get the pie will ya,  while I get this lot on the table.”

“Oh why don’t I just get flour, butter, lard and salt and bake the damn thing too!”  he huffs, hauling himself to his feet.

Niall doesn’t even bother to address him directly as he replies: “Next time, Harry, next time.  Baby steps, man.”

 

**

 

“I don’t intend to let that happen, Harry.”

“Could, though.”

“I know, but I’m careful with my money.  I don’t see me not always being _comfortable_ , at least.”

Harry’s pensive.  He’s thought about this quite a lot; heard some real horror stories involving bankruptcy, many riches to rags sob stories, so knows that it’s far from uncommon, and for some reason it worries him, some persistent nag at the back of his mind that _he’s_ going to be one of those stats, one of those who plummet to the depths of obscurity.

Fame is addictive, cannot possibly deny that.  Whenever he’s away from the prying eyes of the celeb obsessed world he definitely feels it, feels like he’s become a degree less visible, less important, just that little bit drabber than before.

And that should worry him, and yes, it definitely does worry him, but he cannot, all the same, deny that this is how it is.

It’s obviously not that way for Niall, not in quite that way, but he knows that Niall likes the fame as much as any of them – _more_ than most of them – and would miss it as much, if not more than he would.

It just isn’t the same.

Maybe it literally forms a different configuration in his head, therefore influences and impacts his brain differently, because Harry can tell that while they’d both miss the fame it neither looks nor feels the same in his world as it does in Niall’s.

Harry simply wants to know _how_ it looks, get it directly from the source.

They’re in Niall’s lounge, a thimble fill of whisky each to set off the lunch, and they’re both in the mood to talk.

Harry doesn’t care what they alk about – right now – just wants to be talking with him, connecting with him, hopefully setting the mood, the tone for them to keep talking this way, in this vein, so that eventually they’ll get there, get to the reasoning behind Niall’s attitude over the past few days.

Really not going to push, though.

That’s not going to happen, not this time.

“It scares me, though, Niall – thinking about us not being us anymore.  Know what I mean?”

Niall nods, expression thoughtful.  “I know, and that’s why I’m so careful, why I make all the connections I can.”  The look he turns on Harry is solemn.  “You can’t take anything for granted, Harry.  We’re so bloody lucky, and we shouldn’t take it for granted.  I’m personally grateful for every single day I get to wake up out of me bed and call meself a member of the biggest boyband in the world.  When it ends, when they no longer want us, I’ll still have no regrets.  That’s my motto, Stylesy: no regrets; make sure you do enough to never regret not taking your opportunities when they’re presented to you.”  Niall holds Harry’s gaze in a way that immediately puts Harry on alert, and when he just as quickly and pointedly withdraws it Harry is definitely alerted.

Is he trying to tell him something?  What is he trying to tell him? He downs the single drop of liquid remaining in his glass, mind working.  Is he referring to the opportunity to sleep with Harry, which he spurned?  Could that be the opportunity he’s talking about? Does he want Harry to give him another opportunity to have no regrets?

God, he just doesn’t _know_ , and as has been the case with Niall of late he feels at sixes and sevens with him, floundering in a sea of utter confusion.

And Niall’s given signals before, signals which apparently he’s an expert at misreading, so he definitely cannot afford to do his usual blundering in blind, with neither compass nor map to guide his way.

He has to keep stepping carefully until he’s sure.

So he chooses to ignore the _possible_ subtext and take his words at face value.  “I know.  Can’t tell you how many opportunities I’ve missed and only later realised what I’d done.”

“Tell me about it.”  He’s lounging on the sofa and turns now to lie on his back, feet up, looking utterly relaxed.

Harry admires this, because he’s fairly sure that Niall is far from relaxed.  Harry has a feeling that Niall is both relieved and perhaps a little disappointed that his subtext was ignored – or missed – and is probably still a little keyed up.

Why did love have to be so damn complicated?

Why did you have to be so careful to read the other person so expertly so as not to ruin their own particular notion of what love is and the role they were playing in their own ‘play’?

He well knew how fragile that love thing could be, an incipient bud destroyed by an unexpected cold snap, a typhoon out of the blue...a wrong word, a wrong move.

He and Niall had been dancing this dance for so long they no longer knew how to change the steps, couldn’t allow for the insertion of different, new steps that might change the dance to another one entirely, not because they didn’t want to, but because they simply didn’t know how to, also afraid to have their partner stumble and lose their way if they were to do so.

But someone had to do it, and while he still had the courage to face rejection one more time, felt that perhaps it might be time to give Niall the opportunity he quite likely wanted (and needed) to be the one to change the dance.

He allows the silence to trickle in, aware that it could quickly get to the point where the trickle becomes deep and dangerous waters,  hazardous to navigate, making cowards of them both – whether they started out that way or not.

Sometimes the smallest action or inaction held within in the capacity to change everything, you just simply didn’t get to know that beforehand.

Unfair, but simply the way life seemed to work.

Had to trust himself, trust himself to instinctively do the right thing, step clear of the waiting pit of snakes, gaping 200 foot drop masked by the underbrush.

Silence sometimes really did speak louder than words, could be your greatest aide or your most potent enemy.

Interesting to see what it might prove to be on this occasion.

He, too, relaxes, leaning back in his armchair, eyes peering sightlessly at the ceiling.

They often spent entire days together, from early afternoon to early morning, Harry sometimes sleeping over or getting a taxi (if they’d been drinking) or driving himself back.

It was always good, but this time felt _different_ , felt like there was more at stake than at any other time, and none of this was coming from him, wholly from Niall.

Niall had been the one who’d extended the invite to lunch included in which was the implicit understanding that the invitation encompassed the entire day – as it often did.

It had been Niall, too who’d made a point of apologising (for more than not defending him against Liam?), so it was perfectly reasonable to make the assumption that he had a plan, had something at stake, above and beyond the wish to apologise.

Had the apology been all, there’d have been none of this tension.  He’d apologised and Harry had accepted his apology – that was behind them, they both knew that – yet there was a sense of some business yet to be completed in the very air between them, so apparent he could taste it.

And that was definitely coming mostly from Niall; he’d pretty much reconciled himself in that sense, dealt with it – to the extent that he could, anyway.

It was definitely coming from Niall.

And Harry was prepared to give him all the time he needed to get there.

 

**

 

It was the call from Louis that did it.

They’d gone to the local pub (well, relatively local) just to rid themselves of the tension that had been building up, and a few drinks under their belts and buzzing from the usual exchange of banter with the regulars, they’d returned to Niall’s place, ready to spend time concocting a Jamie special.

Harry still didn’t have the best head for alcohol – better, but still a little prone to letting him down when least expected – or welcomed – so he had to make a detour to the bathroom to wake himself up with the application of a little cold water to the face.

His belly told him that something was on the cards, something was brewing and he couldn’t help his anticipatory excitement.

No, he didn’t expect anything sexual to happen – perhaps a kiss?  But he did expect a confession of sorts from Niall.  Well, less confession than _concession,_ mayb _e_ – Niall unbending enough to admit he had feelings for him.

That would be better than sex, in his book.

Niall’s love was that important to him, and hearing that Niall liked him the way he liked Niall would be better than a blowjob right now.

Maybe not tomorrow, but today?  Yes, for sure.

He examines his face in the mirror.

God, he looks totally intoxicated, but concedes that it’s a good look on him.

He gives his reflection a wink and a smile before leaving.

Niall’s taken off his trainers and is wearing an apron.  When he sees him he reaches for a matching apron slung over the chair and hands it to him.  “Hope you’re ready.  I don’t take no prisoners when I’m in me kitchen.”

“Yes, chef!”  he says slipping it on, clumsy fingers fumbling with the ties.  Clicking his teeth, Niall impatiently turns him, ties the apron so tight Harry yelps.  “Chef, can’t ...breathe...chef.”

Niall has his hands on his hips and Harry can feel the exhalation of his mostly silent laughter against the sensitive skin of his neck. “Good, now maybe you’ll be able to follow instructions properly.”

Harry turns to him in what he feels is justifiable outrage.  “I can follow instructions without my blood supply or oxygen being cut off, chef!”

Niall, ignoring him, turns to the cupboard, takes out several bowls, hands them to him.  “Let’s get started.”

Chef is not quite a tartar, but Chef definitely seems to enjoy throwing his weight around.

Harry knows he has a bit of a kink for being dominated (when he’s in the mood) but there’s something about Niall’s soft spoken assertiveness that gets his juices flowing in a rather novel way, which makes the next half hour very interesting indeed.

Cooking, in Harry’s experience, has never been quite this arousing, isn’t _meant_ to be .

But he’s careful to keep his thoughts and feelings strictly under wraps, more than aware that Niall isn’t trying to turn him on, is very much all business, which, unfortunately, turns him on even more.

He honestly has no real idea what Niall’s like in bed, only knows it’d be fun to find out.  Maybe he’s a real dom in bed.  He’s had enough experience to know how foolish it is to assume anything about anyone’s sexual proclivities.

There are some people who he wouldn’t in a million years have believed they’d turn out to be the way were in bed!

“All done, Chef. Anything else?”

Niall runs a quick eye over his work.  “Perfect.  Wash your hands, take a break.  You’ve done good.”

“That’s my aim, Chef – to do good every day, in every way I can do good.  Doing good should be the aim of us all.”   He grins at his eyeroll, gives his bum a friendly – condescending – pat on his way out the kitchen.  “Be sure to let me know if you need help tasting it, getting it just right.”

“Feck off.”

Laughing, he heads to the downstairs cloak, washes his hands, a warm glow inside him, the same glow that’s been there since Niall tied that apron round his waist, and he is genuinely surprised that it isn’t reflected back to him from the image he sees in the mirror above the sink.

Niall, above anyone else, has the capacity to make him happy, genuinely, no strings attached happy.

When he’s with Niall he honestly feels expanded – _expansive_ \- like he’s free to stretch out to his full capacity, not cramp any part of himself, fold it up, twist it up in order to fit with someone else’s expectation of how he should be.

Funny how you only recognised this after years of being cramped and thinking it was normal, thinking that what you got from this other person couldn’t be love, couldn’t be as important or special simply because you weren’t sleeping with them, called them friend rather than lover.

He was still learning, even this late in the day, just how stifled his thinking had been, how conventional he who so prided himself on the lack of strictures in his thinking had been when it came to relationships.

Louis had wanted to posses him, so he called that love, Niall had allowed him to be exactly who he was, do exactly as he pleased and he’d downgraded that to ‘mere’ friendship, believing that Niall’s unconditional love was inferior to the love offered by Louis.

So, so blind and now he was on the cusp of losing his chance, the chance that had been ever present, yet spurned time and time again.

Breath knocked out of him from the force of this epiphany, he finds himself making yet another decision...

 

**

 

“Nah, man, not tonight.”  Niall’s on the phone and when he sees Harry turns abruptly and walks into the garden, quietly pulling the door closed.

Frowning, Harry looks after him.

What was that about?

Oh.

And all of a sudden he’s struggling to prevent the dark cloud of ‘lost your chance, haven’t you’ smothering him, deafening him with its mocking mantra.

Will irony take a fucking break today or what?

Every fucking time he gets close fate intervenes, and he’s really tired of it.

So he’d made mistakes along the way, had taken too long to see Niall, but why was he still being punished for that?

He was ready; very, very ready to see him, cherish him, so why the fuck wasn’t he being given the chance?

So there was a guy.

Why didn’t he know that?  Why didn’t any of them ever fucking know a damn thing about Niall’s affairs?

Why so tight-lipped about things?

He wouldn’t have bloody tried it on if he’d known there was someone, and why hadn’t Niall just _said_ there was?

Wasn’t that better than allowing Harry to spend days thinking he’d done something wrong, that he was at fault rather than the fact he simply wasn’t fucking available?

Watching Niall’s shoulders moving as he laughs Harry feels himself getting worked up.

A part of him knows his outrage is unjustified and is very much composed of 1/5 annoyance and 4/5 jealousy, but he pushes that aside, allows it to build.

Niall ends the call, putting the phone in his pocket before turning back and entering the house.  He meets Harry’s stare.  “Louis.  Wanted to go clubbing tonight.”

Harry states at him, the words not quite computing.  “Louis?”

“Yeah, we sort of made plans...”  He tails off, not exactly looking sheepish, but well, maybe a _little_ sheepish.

Still not quite back on an even keel, Harry repeats, like an idiot; “Plans?”

“We got talking about the fact that we hadn’t been out in ages – in Amsterdam – and sort of said we would when we got back.”

“Oh.  Right.”  Louis and Niall out clubbing?  Nope, couldn’t see it.  “And he wanted to go out tonight?”

“Yeah, but it was only if I wanted to.” He shrugs.  “No biggie, really.”

Harry can’t help wondering who he’s trying t convince, and if it’s him, _why,_ and what exactly he’s meant to be convinced of.  “You could still go if you want to.  I don’t mind.  Don’t want to cramp your style.”

Niall’s glance at him gives nothing away, except that he glances at him and doesn’t follow the look up with his words, which in and of itself does indeed give something away, it’s just that Harry seems to have lost the capacity to read him lately. “Staying in tonight.  Bit tired.”

Harry might have responded to that yesterday, the day before – a week ago – with the polite cliché, the offer to take his leave at Niall’s earliest convenience, but he knows Niall isn’t offering a polite out, and he’s in no mood to be polite in any case.  “Louis’ a mad man when it comes to raving.”  Doesn’t really know why he says this, certainly has no wish to talk about Louis.

Niall seems to be thinking the same, not really responding to the statement, simply nodding politely, clearly ready to move on.

It’s like this between them at times; something still not out in the open - his relationship with Louis; how niall feels – felt - about his relationship with Louis.

At times he got the impression he hurt him, at other times Niall did a decent impression of someone who’d elected himself their own personal matchmaker.  Really hard to know what he ever _really_ felt.

Is it time to ask him?

“We were never really interested in the same things.  Just drifted into stuff, really.”  He says this absently, as if picking up the thread of a conversation started yesterday, earlier, but it’s the first time he’s ever said it this way – matter-of-fact, no charge on the words.

Niall seems to pick up on this too, though he only looks at him, an attentive expression on his face.

“We _tried_ to like the same things, think the same way, but it never worked – we’re just too different.”  Niall agrees, his nod firm and fairly unequivocal, still not speaking, though.  “It takes ages sometimes to admit things to yourself, cos you don’t want to admit you fail, do you?”  Niall’s nod this time is sympathetic, but Harry still has no real gauge on what’s going on behind those eyes.  “And with him it was like we were in a goldfish bowl, with everyone knowing we were in trouble and us still going ahead like we were fine.  That was the hardest part, really.  It was confusing and disorienting, some people telling you were doing the right thing, others telling you to keep trying for the sake of the band.  I don’t even know how it would have worked out if we hadn’t been here, with the band, on tour, in each other’s pockets all day, every day.  Maybe we might have mended things, who knows?”  Well, he has pondered this a few times, told himself a few times that they’d have made it had they not been in the band, but he knows it isn’t true.   Had it not been for the band they probably wouldn’t even have been civil with each other – and that is the stone cold truth.  Having to be around each other – civil - forced them to try, and in trying they rediscovered the things they still liked about one another, which turned out to be their saving grace.

He definitely preferred to remain friendly with his lovers, which is why he mostly made lovers out of friends, so that they’d at least have more than attraction to keep them together, so that if and when the sexual attraction faded the _affectio_ n had a good chance of remaining untouched.

That’s what he’d managed to eventually achieve with Louis. Though he no longer sought him out as first choice as far as companions went given that they really had so very little in common,  the affection was definitely there.

“It must have been really hard.”  Niall sounds sincere enough, but Harry gets the impression that he’s pretty damn tired of Harry talking about his relationship with Louis.  He’d been a sympathetic ear for years, must be sick to death of making himself into the listening ear Harry took for granted.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Niall.”

“Harry, don’t beat yourself up, man.  We’ve all made mistakes.”

“I keep getting it wrong.  I think I finally get it –love – and every single time I’m wrong.”

“But I - you’re not bad, Harry.  You’re strong.”

Harry snorts.  “You think?”

“I do.  You never shy away from things, even when they’re tough.  You always dive right in when the easy thing would be to run as far as you can in the other direction.”

Harry stares at him.  “And you think that makes me strong?  some people would say it makes me an idiot.”

“Do you wanna go in the other room?  Dinner’s gonna be an hour or so.”

“Can we sit here?  It’s cosy here.  Love the smell of good food cooking.”

“Well, let’s hope it turns out the way it should.”  He pulls out a chair, reaches for a biscuit in the barrel.  When Harry sits he says: “I think sometimes even when it might look like you’re being an idiot it’s being an idiot that makes you look back and have no regrets.”

“Sort of like, at least I tried it kinda thing?”

“Exactly.  They say that you don’t regret the things you did, only the things that you didn’t do. Or something like that anyway.”

“I know the quote you mean, and it’s true.  It’s why I try to cram as much in to my life as I can.  We are so lucky Niall, so damn lucky and I’m not going to look back on my life and realise I had the chance to do so many things – chances most people never ever get and all I did was turn my nose up, hit the snooze button and go back to sleep.”

Niall nods, but doesn’t reply, pensive as he eats his biscuit.

Harry, watching him, is struck not for the first time at the sense of peace he gets whenever he’s around Niall, the feeling he’s been taking for granted for way too long.

What he’s rarely ever asked himself is what Niall gets from being around him: what does he give Niall that Niall can’t get anywhere else, from anyone else.

The issue, in the end, for him and Louis was that he came to realise that Louis didn’t bring with him anything he actually _needed_ , anything he couldn’t get from any of his other friends.  He was funny, spontaneous, but so were most of his friends, and it wasn’t like Louis appreciated _his_ humour, which meant of course that it was often him giving Louis big love for his wit, while Louis regarded his witticisms as weird and unfunny.  Not exactly the basis for an equal, fruitful partnership.  Louis would support him in public, while subtly and sometimes not so subtly tearing him down in private – telling him how to dress, how to look, who to hang with, who to like and dislike.  Like a new bride blinded by love he’d gone along with it, convinced that since Louis loved him, this was simply part of it, part of a _real_ relationship, the kind _grown-ups_ had. 

How long it had taken for his eyes to open, to finally see that Nick was right, that Nick (and many of his other friends) could see where _he_ was blind, that they weren’t jealous and spiteful, but were doing what all good friends try to do – help, support, do all they can to prevent you getting hurt.

Well, it had taken getting hurt to eventually recognise the wisdom in their words, their actions, and thankfully, his friendships had never been the type that could so easily be broken due to a difference of opinion and no-one had ever said or hinted at ‘I told you so’ when he’d left Louis, though he certainly wouldn’t have blamed them if they had.

He’d wanted so badly for it work with Louis, had clung to faint hope when it was obvious to anyone else – to Niall, to Liam, to Zayn, too – that he and Louis were not working.  Nick had taken one look at Louis and pretty much dismissed him, not saying this until much later, of course, but there’d always been that slight air of contempt in his attitude toward Louis, and it was only later that Harry got it, understood why, understood how Nick saw him.

He didn’t, of course, see Louis in quite that way, but was insightful enough to realise that love always places a filter on such things, and that one will rarely ever see the person in question the way those a little less involved do.  He certainly could _understand_ why Nick didn’t like him.  Objectively he sometimes dislikes him, too, but can never long ignore the fact that Louis is also very likable, the side Nick rarely sees potent enough to override the less pleasant aspects of his personality, that once you’ve experienced that side of him it’s really hard to allow the negative stuff to influence you.

This, of course, is pretty much, the problem he faced in trying to first have a solid relationship with him, then break up with him – and have it stick.

He’d still had strong feelings for him when he made the decision to break up, which made the process of sticking to that decision, not going back to him, ignoring all the reasons to go back to him really, really tough.

Definitely the messiest thing he’s experienced, and all through that mess he’d had his friends to keep him on the rails.

Ironically, part of the reason it meant so much to have support from the others was that it was so fucking difficult _not_ to take sides, and somehow they’d all managed it – treating both him and Louis with a remarkable even-handedness that still astonishes him even now.  True friendship, in his opinion, and a testament to the those skills they’ve acquired, skills he doubts most people have come even close to accessing.

No, they’ve all had to mature in ways he objectively finds pretty bloody remarkable.

And he’s so proud; proud of himself; proud of them as individuals; proud of them as a band. 

No-one out there has even the slightest clue what really goes on – has gone on – behind the scenes, and he can himself hardly believe the way they’ve somehow manage to keep so much hidden away from the public, managed to actually sell the image they’d been given to sell.  

Part of him feels he probably should be perturbed by the level of deceit to which they’ve all by now acclimated, but he can no longer seem to so easily access that part of his consciousness.  He knows – and has made peace with the fact – that parts of them – all of them – have died,  subsumed and consumed by the industry in which they’ve chosen to ply their trade.  And though he wishes things were different, that they could have the fame, the fortune and still retain their integrity intact, is no longer that naive, and for all their sakes has simply reconciled himself to life as it is rather than angsting about things he cannot and has no will to change.

Niall of all of them is the one who’s managed to retain the greater part of his integrity, and Harry doesn’t exactly know how that is, but given Niall’s nature is not astonished.

“I love you.”

Niall looks up at him, not at all surprised.  “Yeah,” he says simply.

“Have done for ages.”

He nods again, not speaking, simply looking at him.  Waiting.

“I don’t want to hurt you.  In any way.”

“Harry, I know.”

“I will take things so slow-“

“I’m not ready for that yet.”

“I don’t want to get you into bed, Niall.  I just want to be able to love you without feeling like I’m keeping  massive secret from you.”

Niall’s looking deep into his eyes, weighing his words, weighing _him_.  “You want me to say I love you too?”

“Only if you want to, only if it’s true.”

“Doesn’t solve anything.”

“If it’s true, if it’s a fact, then it is what it is whether we do anything with it or not.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I know.”  And he can’t say more than that, because he does know and it does hurt, but he’s reconciled himself to this so it hurts a little less than it might have had he not already reached that conclusion himself.

“I want to be able to trust you, but I don’t.  Sorry, man.”  His voice is barely above a whisper and Harry, knowing him as well as he does, can see that he’s trying to be strong, but is on the verge of tears.

He hates himself for his leap to make even this about him, but can’t help but feel guilt for giving Niall reason not to trust him and furthermore giving him reason to be _upset_ about that fact.  Even in his turmoil he has time to berate himself for his self-centred responses, but he doesn’t have time to work on that right now, has to make an effort to push that away and concentrate on Niall, just Niall.  “Can I ask that you give me time to win back your trust?”

Niall stares at him, eyes slightly glassy with the incipient tears and Harry holds his breath, aware that he genuinely has no idea which way this will go.  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Harry.”  He reaches across the table to touch his hand.  When Harry holds on he doesn’t pull away.  “It’s that I don’t think I can see myself as your...boyfriend.”  Harry swears he can feel the shudder, small as it is, go through him.  “It’s not who I am, not how I see myself.”

“I don’t want to keep it secret.  Not from the others, I mean,” he adds hastily, seeing the panic in Niall’s eyes.  “Not from mum and Gemma either.”

Niall looks down at the table, tries to pull from Harry’s grip, but it’s only a half-hearted attempt, and when Harry doesn’t release him he relaxes, gives it up.  “I don’t want to be Mr Harry Styles, Harry Styles’ other half.  It’s just not me, Harry.  I’m not ashamed of you, i just want to keep my private life private and I can’t trust you to do that.”  His eyes are bright but determined, and Harry sees that this is probably not a fight he’s destined to win.

Taking a deep breath, he rubs his thumb across Niall’s knuckles.  “Whatever you need, Niall.  I swear to you.  I swear to you that if you honestly, honestly don’t want anything to change between us, want us to just be friends, I’m on board.  I love you,” he says with as much emphasis as he can find with which to imbue his voice, absolutely needing him to get this.  “So whatever you need to be okay with us – this – whatever we decide this is, you got it.  I promise you.”

Niall meets his gaze, his own solemn, intense.  Harry doesn’t think anything he’s said has changed Niall’s initial viewpoint, but suspects that he’s learned something he hadn’t known till then.  EventuallyNiall says: “Let’s take this slow.”

Relieved, but wise enough not to show it, Harry confines himself to a firm nod, trusting that will be enough to convey his sincerity.

They sit in silence for a good few minutes, drinking each other in, asking wordless questions, for which each hopes the answers won’t be long in coming.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just remind readers that this was written for a specific person, so it is what it is. lmao, don't worry he'll be disappointed that there wasn't more of...everything...here too. All I can say is that clearly the story isn't done. This part is, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Babe, you know how I never complete any of the many pieces I dedicate to you? Well I promise to finish this one. i was intending it make it a one shot but then Harry decided to somehow throw the possibility of Ziam coming out into the mix and I gots to see if it takes ( wonder how Zayn's gonna react?) I also suspect Harry's life is about to get seriously complicated and *sigh* i have to explore that too *quadruple sigh* I'm writing nothing come Jan 1st - no more fanfic - so I have a time limit for this shizz! It's like SPECIFICALLY for YOU, this fic, so let's see if I can figure out what you like :P :P :P (don't think I gots enough time to get Ziam a KID, tho :P :P :P :P )
> 
> <333333


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